Dearftrme - Dear Universe

I'm angry and it's all I'm ever going to be.

the average tumblr user will see this post. they will feel compelled to open up the comments. when they do this they'll see that nearly every comment written is identical.

they all say "Man, I sure do love the hivemind".

with that exact same punctuation and capitalization.

upon scrolling further they might find comments that do not say this.

they will be compelled to reply to that comment with the word "Anomaly". and nothing more.

I don't want to remember you poorly,

I don't want to remember you at all.

i love sociopaths i love narcissists i love low/no empathy havers i love people so mentally scarred it makes them generally mean people who push everyone away i love chronically angry people i love people with horrible intrusive thoughts (yes even yours) i love people who want horrible things to happen to the people who hurt them i love people with pervasive feelings of hate i love people who are uncontrollably agitated and irritable i see you i care about you i want you to get better i think you deserve as many chances as it takes for you to pull through i mean it i really really mean it

"I guess we doin peekaboo now"

KILL IT

Im sorry but it is so funny how people outside of tumblr view us. Like why are the tiktokers treating tumblr like some professional ass website you need to do extensive prep before you begin posting on. And the follower farming advice is so fucking funny to me when this is the website where people actively hate getting new followers

I was talking with my sister last night and it occurred to me that I write a lot of poetry during liminal and intermundane moments. Late at night before I go to sleep. A moment of mental stress. Immediately after awaking from unconsciousness. Feeling trapped between the past and the future. Longing for the beauty of the unattainable past. Stuck in traffic. Out walking at sunset, almost dying from the freezing cold temperature. Meditation on our childhood in the earth. Outside in a thunder storm. Imagining I was out in the woods. Something eerily like demonic possession. Dancing in the rain. Listening to the night sounds at midnight dejection. Melancholy contemplation in an unlit room. A late night obsession. Out, meditating, on a walk. The shock of a murder. Reading apocalyptic literature.

Humans are intermundane beings; thus it only makes sense that our poetry would be the same.

Meeting someone beautiful and they reveal the beauty in me too

"The light shines even though the star is gone"

the right person will stay