Also Small Side Note... Is The "is Fear Close Relative Or Truth" Thing A Twenty One Pilots Reference?

I'm taking this. It's mine now.

some horrorkin and monsterkin blinkies :] pssst... i'm taking requests for this template if anyone wants it in a different color/different words! (free to use, no credit or permission required, no dni)

If I may also give a recommendation for sources; the SCP Foundation, and a bunch of its canons, have a ton of 'doomed timeline' stories. I am specifically more versed in the Church of the Broken God and Sarkicism groups of interests, but I would also recommend looking into the O5 Council as what you have described may align more with them.

-@sssssaarn

I apologize for the late reply, I wanted to take a proper amount of time answering this one because truth be told, I had a bit of SCP phase back in the early 2010s, and of course I happened to take a peek into the fandom once again when liminal space aesthetics and ‘The Backrooms’ rose to prominence. I remember back yesteryear, how my peers would all sit around one kid while they played the game and desperately wishing for that kind of kinship, but I digress. There is something that certainly allures me about the SCP fandom as a whole. The aesthetic, but also the anomaly classification system.The idea of bringing order to something so naturally chaotic really intrigues me. All you need to do is just look at one symbol in the classification system and you immediately know what source material you’re interacting with.. Thank you for the recommendation, I certainly will consider it.

hello! im not sure if youre still looking, but i stumbled across your blog by chance, and we actually have a jon (tma) introject in our system - he hasn't fronted much recently, but lmk if you'd like to chat to him (or the rest of us - i think we could make reasonable guesses at a lot of his experiences)! hope youre well :)

Your ask really couldn't have come at a better time. I would appreciate it immensely if I could speak to them, and of course, thank you for reaching out. I really can't thank you and the rest of those who have reached out to me in this kin finding journey of mine. There have been some hiccups along the way, but the kindness you've shown to me can't be repaid.

love as recognition

anna gavalda / friedrich nietzsche / clarice lispector / jandy nelson / rebecca perry / mhairi mcfarlane

‘Hanging Lamps’ courtesy of B & P Lamp Supply Company McMinnville, Tennessee

An illustration of the eye that I saw in my dream, created by these two images;

I drew over the top of the first image, but I hope this will help better explain to those reading just what I saw.

The Eye At The Bottom of Emerald Coast

This post is an update to where I have been for the last 2 weeks. I plan to write everything that I experienced, everything I heard, everything I saw– in excruciating detail for me. For my own peace of mind, so if you are perturbed by talk related to medical emergencies or long winded explanations about things as trivial as my feelings, then feel free to turn away. I won’t fault you for it, but this post is going up all the same, because I feel like this moment in my life meant something. It had to.

So, what happened? I'm just going to rip the bandage off and say, I had a cardiac event at work, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. I don't like having to share this because I feel like I always have something dramatic happening in this disaster of a life I've built for myself. I thought moving from my hometown and getting a medical degree was supposed to make my life more stable, but the groundwork I've created is crumbling around me, and the fall from grace started with a workplace argument. “I don't get why you don't trust us, we have been so nice to you, and yet you keep pulling this shit-”

“Look, I can't just turn trust on like a switch, Larry. If I could, I would just to get you off my back but don't sit there and lie to me. I know you all have been talking about me in secret. What was it about? Is it because of what I said about the freezer room? Is it- oh my god, did you find out why I left my last job?” I panicked, but the look on Larry's face told me that it was not information he was privy to… yet. “I do not think it's a coincidence that you all suddenly fall silent the second I enter the room. So am I just being paranoid or do you have something you want to tell me?”

“You're just being paranoid!!” He throws his hands up with his shouted exclamation, several people glance over at us. “Look, dude… Okay, we have talked a little bit but only because we're worried about you!” I raised an eyebrow of disbelief. “Seriously? After we invited you out to grab drinks with us, you still don't think we're friends?”

“I…don't  know what I think.”

I could feel the tension rising up in the back of my throat, like bile. Everything in the room pulsed as I took in a shaking breath, but Larry just pushed on. “Why are you so damn negative? I just don't get it, man. You know when you aren't going on about how the world is awful, you're actually fun to talk to-”

“Listen, bad always happen to me- I'm just reporting the facts,”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about-! Nobody is out to get you! I like you, Julius! I like you!” and I tried to say something in rebuttal but… I threw up right there at the table with no warning…and it was pure black, the texture gelatinous and bitter. I thought about how someone had told me once that black vomit is a tell towards a serious health issue and that you are close to death- and I know that's because of the coffee ground appearance of vomit during a gastrointestinal bleed, I know that, okay?  I could tell that wasn't what this was because it was downright acrylic looking in consistency,  but it was too late, the fear that I was dying was already firmly planted in my head. I could feel the prickle of eyes on me, making me feel even more panicked. “Oh shoot, let me go get some paper towels,” Larry said, but Gilbert was already making strides over to the paper towel roll on the counter in the breakroom. My head was swimming, and my shoulder began to throb so hard that it trailed up the side of my neck and that just freaked me out even more.That must've been when I lost consciousness, because I don't really recall much afterwards. I think Larry might've tried to coax me out of my seat, saying; “Okay, let's get you sitting on the ground before you pass out.”but besides that, it's a blur. All I wanted was to stand up and shake it off, and show them that everything was alright– but it was like I was trying to keep my head above water when the waves were crashing all the same, silencing my cries for help and pulling me under. I fought it the whole way down.

For a painful moment, it was just dark, and the only thing I was conscious of was that feeling where you've been dropped from a great height, that rush of adrenaline in a quick pulsing ’thump!’ and then I was far under the currents of emerald bay. The water was dark and rich, and it overwhelmed all my senses. It was all encompassing, in a terrifying way that made it impossible to tell which direction the surface was. For a second there it was nice because at least this felt constant, you know? It almost felt safe, in a way that was terribly deceptive. 'Thump!' There was something there, under the ocean floor. I couldn't see it, but it was there, its heartbeat shaking the tranquility of death.  I could feel it with absolute certainty. It made the sea pulse like a womb, and so I swam down towards the heartbeat that was drumming on, shaking the walls of my soul.

Because it's not fair. I played my whole life by the books. I kept my head down, I worked myself to the bone, and I always followed what was expected of me. I never put myself out there. As I kept kicking my feet, all I could think about was all the hobbies I repressed, all the people I could've kissed, all the things I could've brought into question- it wasn't fair. I wasn't supposed to die like this, never finding the closure I was searching for. I just wanted to understand who I am, I just wanted to know- was that really so awful? 

’Thump!’

And there it was, at the bottom of emerald bay, the thing that's haunted me, the explanation of my entire life looking right through me as if I wasn't merely my flesh. One, pulsing eye, flecked with the dark stars of infinite timelines and realities. I spent my whole life feeling lost, like I didn't know who I was, and now it was looking me right in the face like a macabre joke. I thought back to all that time I spent asking people about their experiences, and trying to selfishly fit myself into some space I could belong- the Supernatural kin community, the Madoka Magica kin community, the Mouth Washing kin community especially and it was all because of this thing. This thing I don't even understand. I wanted to, in spite of everything. I almost wanted to laugh at how bad it hurt…and because I have a sense of humor, as I reached out to stab into the pupil with my sharpened fingers, I thought to myself,

“I hope this hurts”

Some things about going into cardiac arrest at 24 years old; I recovered faster than expected. I could've been there for 16, 18 days… but I was only there for 11. Having all that stuff hooked up on me, especially the catheter, was sensory hell and so I made it everyone else's problem that I was feeling so rotten. That being said, I found myself not nearly as emotional about this experience. Surprising as that may be, it all felt sort of surreal. Like it wasn't me laying in that hospital bed but someone completely different. Oh, I hated that more than anything. You know what the real kicker was? They said it was triggered by stress. That I should be more careful when viewing horror content, among other things. Imagine the one thing that brings you joy. Imagine the climax of your absolute euphoria, a high that knocks you away from the woes of reality, your favorite food, your favorite song. Imagine asking a question, and never getting to live to hear the answer, no you've been condemned to ignorance. It was as if they just told me I was going to be living off saltines for the rest of my life. It was like they defanged me. Naturally I dealt with it in my usual healthy coping mechanisms- being an insufferable prick. 

Consider this a footnote, but-

The thing that pushed me over the edge in the end is confusing and because I don't understand it, I feel almost embarrassed to admit the amount of pain it doled upon all my senses. It was one of the nurses, the way she smelled. Over all that sterile cleaner and sour dread from the hospital, somehow I could make out notes of chamomile and bergamot as she whisked away with a clipboard in hand, and suddenly I was struggling to keep my composure, because I

Why? Why was this happening? Why was I doing this here, where someone could see me? Sure, no one was in the room but I could feel the prickle of eyes at the back of my neck. I was already in the throes of a nervous breakdown though, I could feel the lump in my throat forming and suddenly I wished I hadn't gone and pushed away anyone who even looked at me kindly. 

If I kept going down that train of thought, I'd surely embarrass myself. I mean– it's  not as if I've never had a cup of tea before, or had the pleasure of smelling a lit bergamot candle. For some reason, the warmth in it together just knocked the wind out of me. How do you process grief if you don't even know why you're grieving? So I just sat there, swallowing convulsively and thinking about the fact that I built my walls so high, that nobody visited me in this god forsaken hospital over the holidays. ’Well, that's not fair, maybe they visited early when I wasn't conscious and they just got turned away because they weren't family’ I try to tell myself, but deep down I know nobody tried because I really am that unlikable of a person. It's not even something I've learned, it's been like this ever since I was a child. If I just keep telling myself it's all of this is worth it, then maybe one day it will be. I just have to keep clawing at the walls of this existence until I break through.

So About That Vent I Wrote A Minute Ago

I know writing, "It's never going to stop," and using the tag that I had was probably in poor taste, but I feel like deleting it might make it seem like I'm trying to hide something, and I want to remain completely transparent with you.

I'm not sure if I actually feel those things, I think sometimes I get these urges that become deafeningly loud, and I just want it to stop.

It usually starts as a steady buildup behind the backs of my eyes and against my larynx. Like, I'm trying to explain the weight of the air because something changes but I'm not sure how to explain it. Maybe it's hot and cold?. And there's humming in the air that I constantly hear along with everything else, and suddenly my sense of control is being violently and explosively ripped away from me.. And time doesn't just slip by around me like with the descriptions of dissociation I've read about, no everything comes to a screeching halt because that's usually the point where I just fall apart right at the seams, you know? And I always feel so juvenile and embarrassed after.

Like it's a whole ordeal and then instead of the world ending like it felt like before, it just keeps on going and I have to show my face around the people who watched me curl up into a corner crying the way I had. It all goes, the image I've been trying to build up for myself.

I can even feel it starting to happen. I can almost visualize it happening, like I'm just one drop of blood spattering into my face while I'm working or one misstep down the stairs away from that happening and I think about that and what it'd mean for me .... There's a whole ocean of stressors behind these eyes, and hell becomes something as simple as an itchy shirt or an embarrassing social interaction. Does anyone feel this too? The visceral fear of being seen?

I am ahmed from Gaza I hope you are well, my dear. Please help me. Our tent was flooded while we were sleeping in the streets. We have no shelter. I cannot provide winter clothes for me and my mother to protect us from the cold that has begun, and I cannot provide basic needs. Please help me. $50 is enough to buy a new tent and winter clothes. Please help me my dear. We live in very harsh conditions.conditions.https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-ahmed-and-his-family-survive-in-gaza-crisis

ahmed-gaza033's donation page is available on gofundme.com

Does Your Fear Guide You in Your Discovery of Identity?

I find the neurobiological response to fear so incredibly intriguing, especially seeing what things affect individuals versus others. There's such a wide variety to choose from- just search up any old list of phobias on the internet and you'll clearly see that. 

It’s fundamental, a deeply wired reaction in our bodies, evolved over the history of life as we know it in order to protect organisms against perceived threat to their integrity of existence.

The amygdala and hippocampus are mostly responsible– the hippocampus processing the perceived threat, and the amygdala givinging that adrenaline rush that we all crave so desperately. This high arousal state can be both from fear or excitement. I don't think it's that much of a leap to suggest that fear and excitement are both connected and therefore can both derive satisfaction. 

More importantly, fear can actually help aid your memory. This is of course only to a certain extent, as prolonged distress of high quantities can actually lead to memory loss in self protection, but I would like to theorize for a moment that the reason that so many of those that have contacted me so far, have had memories after viewing the more high tension scenes from their source material is because of the stress neurotransmitter norepinephrine, promoting the formation of fear based memories by stimulating inhibitory neurons in the amygdala while we are so engrossed in the content. 

The fear feels familiar because it is. It's been living dormant inside you all along. That being said, I would like to inquire about the most distressing moment for you when viewing your own source material? How did it relate to your identity, and did it lead to memories related to said scene afterwards? 

And of course, my dms are always open..