See The THING IS I Don't Feel Like I Ever Worked Hard Enough To Have "earned" The Burnout, Which Is.

What, that’s so sad :(

Idk if I've posted about it before, but I feel really bad for silk moths specifically. They don't exist in the wild because they've been bred for thousands of years to not fly. Poor things

I love chewing holes in my friends walls to hide and coming out to eat their snacks at night

Trans women will literally feel comfortable near you and flop down on their side.

Saw this as a text post, very labru coded

the group chat when i ask whos available to hang out next week

funniest thing our wizard has ever said after spending several seconds going through their spell list:

"oh who am I kidding? fireball."

sometimes you just have to let yourself be a bit neurodivergent.

i hate going out, it gives me a lot of anxiety and sensory input that i dont like, and i am often forced to talk to people.

so i do this thing on more difficult days, or sometimes just for fun, where i "bring a fictional character with me". i walk and imagine Fictional Character walking next to me. they talk to me, reassure me, hype me up, whatever i need them to do.

today dean winchester came christmas shopping with me. he went over the list with me of stuff i needed to get, told me i was doing a good job every time i finished in a certain shop, reminded me to take a deep breath when i got a little overwhelmed.

and yea. its kinda silly. and i know its just me talking to myself in a different voice, but it Works! especially since all of my special interests/hyperfixations tend to be tv/movie related.

so do what you gotta do to Get Shit Done. stop holding yourself to neurotypical standards. if you need Fictional Character to tell you you're doing a good job, do it! if you need Favourite Singer to walk you to school, do it! yea it might feel silly but you're literally fighting against your own brain to get stuff done every single day. you can have a little self indulgent daydream, as a treat.

Out of Touch

nothing‘s quite as painful as slowly losing a friend. the quiet realization that they’re slipping away and you’re getting less and less important and others are becoming their priority. and there’s nothing you can do, nothing to change the story. there’s just no enthusiasm left for you.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Look yonder! Someone has writ upon that ceiling that thou art most easily gulled!

Elizabethan Peasant 2: More fool they, for I cannot read.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: *sighing, lowers his visage unto his palm*