While I Have The Time To Keep Up On My Blog Maintenance, Let's Update This While We're At It;

I don't get why nothing is working, I was supposed to get better this was supposed to work. Why am I not grateful? I nearly died just a month ago and somehow I'm discontent with my life and I'm discontent in my own body, I don't get it.

hey hey, could i suggest looking into fear and hunger: termina, specifically? you remind me quite a bit of the character daan from it

Oh, you know I haven't fully looked into Fear and Hunger! You think I would given I would, given-- it's the two main topics I bring up all the time, on this blog. I gave the source material a glance over and I see that Daan is a doctor, which may very well explain my mild fixation with neuroscience.. Thank you for this recommendation, I'll be sure to add it to my list

Oh, I completely forgot to site my source. Honestly I'm surprised because usually when I prattle on about these things, it's met with snores all around. I'm glad that you have taken interest in the topic!

MIT News | Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Scientists find neurons that process language on different timescales

MIT neuroscientists identified clusters of neurons that appear to respond to word strings of different lengths. These “temporal windows” ran

An Incredibly Informal Post About Neuroscience, at 5am

Using a precise technique that involves recording electrical activity directly from the brain, neuroscientists have identified different clusters of neurons that appear to process language on different timescales. Isn't that fascinating?

So, they had recordings of electrical activity from 177 language responsive electrodes– and this was across six patients that they recorded electrical activity in using the electrodes that they implanted in their brain, and then they had the participants read four different types of language stimuli: complete sentences, lists of words, lists of non-words, and sentences that looked grammatically correct but were just kinda word soup, you know? So then they found that in some of the neural populations, activity would fluctuate up and down with each word. In others activity would build up over multiple words before falling again.

So basically, they could potentially map these timescales. Like sensitivity to features of single words or relationships between words. This is just the beginning, they for sure are going to have a follow up article coming out saying they did another test and compared the data, hopefully within the next year. Maybe by then they'll have some of the questions I'm thinking of answered.

So I've Been Seeing Some Fake Claiming Videos Pop Up On YouTube Dash Lately and I can't understand why..

Honestly, I don't think fake claiming for any reason can be in good faith. There's ways that you handle difficult topics, and being dismissive with what others are telling you they experience is not one of them. 

Whether it's about mental health, disabilities, alter humanity, or plurality- you are not qualified to decide whether or not someone is faking, especially online, and it stresses me out to see how cold some individuals have become to those who are often sharing vulnerable parts of themselves– 

because it often is coming from a place of vulnerability, not deceit. Even if they were not correct about what they have or what they are, doesn't the fact that they're saying anything at all point to them feeling a certain way, and needing guidance and compassion? Recording videos of strangers going about their life just because they're in public, mocking those who make posts about their day to day life is not compassion.. Don't you ever get sick of judging people, and just want to listen? 

At the heart of it, that's where the problem lies. No one wants to stop and listen anymore. The right to interrogate or harass someone because they don’t look disabled to you, has never been a right owned by anyone, and it sure won't be yours to wield, not with any justice anyways.

am the anon who sent the magnus archives. if it's anything the green you use is similar to the magnus archive's green. i don't personally think it's jon because you're posts doesn't read asshole like he is but well, i don't really know you in real life so who knows.

You know, it's funny. I have gotten a lot of suggestions for the magnus archives as of late, not just on tumblr but in other fictionkin communities as well. I'm going to lay everything out on the table and be completely honest here. I took a glance at the source material, and it felt like it might actually fit what I've been feeling. I made this blog with the intent of getting answers, of righting some terrible wrong that I have felt echoes of my whole life. I should be so thrilled that something seems familiar to me..

So, why don't I just listen to it? A part of me likes how so many people have suddenly come to my dms to tell me their experiences and memories related to their identities, and for a moment it's like we're sharing something together. They were all so nice to me. It feels like a genuine connection, if even for a moment- and I guess the feeling was so nice that I forgot the original thing I had sought after in the first place. 

So I have so many helpful suggestions saying to look into the magnus archives, and I'm scared if I roll the dice and happen to land on a source that I can kinfirm, it'll all go away. Or worse, that after so many people have suggested it, if I go and rule it out they'll be disappointed. 

I wasn't expecting to make friends, when I created this blog. Maybe it's selfish of me to want things to stay the same, or maybe this isn't even making any sense, but I really do appreciate everyone who has written to me. Does anyone else feel this sort of anxiety when they interact with sources they could possibly be from? Feel free to reach out.

This Is The End Of The World

Can you feel the earth turning slower than it ever had before? So much has happened over the last couple of years, and the weight is almost too much. We’ve seen war, and illness. We’ve watched a fool become king to this country, and the changing of the seasons that is no doubt melting down the icecaps- hell, we even gained a second moon in September. It’s enough to make anyone begin to worry if this is downright biblical.

I remember during my childhood, the idea of an apocalypse being just on the horizon of our lives was something so often talked about. It was spoken about as if it were a concrete fact, and that one day everything we hold near and dear was going to burn in hellfire. What stuck with me most though,was how they would talk to us children, about how we had to be strong, and how we were so special. About how we wouldn't let our minds be poisoned by those outside of the community. Now I’m 24 years old, and I’m living far away from my hometown… and still, the earth continues to turn, my heart is still beating. 

I try to remind myself that I’m different now, and that I can look at things from a less coerced mindset. The fear is always there though, burning white hot in my lungs. I think about my poor grandmother, on her deathbed, how she looked me in the eyes and said, “You aren’t Jules...who are you?” Her last moments, I think about often whenever I think about the end of the world. 

Maybe the earth ended long ago, in another timeline far from this one. Maybe everyone we’ve ever loved, every fear we ever hated- maybe it all went up in smoke and we can’t remember it because remembering would mean enduring the fear all over again. Sometimes times I think I can feel a tension thick in the air, like I’m running out of time, and a million breaths gasp in fear all at once, all over the globe- and that feeling terrifies me because I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I may have played a hand in it.

 Can you feel that tension? Can you feel the earth’s blood and hunger? Well, maybe we can use this chance to turn things around. Let’s save the planet from itself, we have to be brave because we live in a world of constantly being frightened. They say it on our televisions, in articles and books that we should be afraid of our future and that things look grim, but I think there’s still hope for us yet. We just have to take matters into our own hands, and make this world worth living in, a little at a time. We can fix this. It’s our last chance to forgive ourselves.

Hello, Star and Blue. You have a lovely tumblr blog, and I think that it is wonderful that you help so many other fictionkin who reach out to you online.

I have a big ask- one that is possibly too much to request, so if you do not answer I will not take any offense. I’ve seen Kin Calls on tumblr, and I think I would like to make one of sorts, unfortunately I do not know the source I am from, and I am aware that this goes against what you specifically stated in your pinned post.

For full disclosure, I’m not entirely sure who I am, but I certainly feel like I may be a villain. It makes me feel guilty, to not even be certain what I’ve done or who I inflicted my malcontent behavior upon, so I decided I would branch out to other blogs on Tumblr in hopes of fixing things to the best of my ability. 

That being saiiid…. I have a confession. There is a certain phenomenon that wriggles around in my very being. It breathes life into me where I would otherwise feel hollow, and I have become addicted to the acrid taste on my tongue- fear, and ideally a heightened measure of it. I really can’t help myself nowadays, the draw to the unknown horrors of this world that dance just outside of our periphery should be sought after, at the very least to document it,  but I feel so overwhelmed by the level of satisfaction that I get when seeking out said feelings both in myself and others. 

Sometimes I really can’t help myself, there’s something about the way people’s blood seems to run backward in their veins and they get that hysterical sound to their voice, the way their pupils dilate and seem to tremble in their very eyes is so very attractive… It’s a game of wits, to see if you can outlast the very stress response (Your fight or flight), and I’m sure there are people out there that know what I’m talking about, when I say there isn’t quite anything like this primal dance that we call horror, in the world.

 I think it’s wrong that I feel this way, and I just feel dreadful afterwards when I find myself giving in (But I always do), I imagine it feels so much worse to have memories of being on the receiving end of something so vile though. So to anyone reading these words, if you are a fictionkin from a doomed timeline, and you see familiarity in me, if you feel personally victimized by me: This is an invitation to reach out and receive a proper apology. I may not know who or what I am, but I will right this terrible wrong, mark my words. 

mod star reporting for duty >:) thank you so much, you'll make us blush! speaking for mod blue on this one since im sure it feels the same, we love hearing kind words about the blog! i know i've said this a few times before but i never expected this blog to actually fill a wanted niche amongst the Kins of Tumblr. that being said...

!! kin call !!

please feel free to reach out to OP if they resonate with you !!

Two Sentence Horror Story:

You send an ask to a beloved mutual, only to look back at the google doc that you copied and pasted from. There's a grammatical error.

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.