Sometimes I wish I wasn't as intuitive as I am. I literally notice everything, I feel the emotions of those around me. When something is really good I feel really good. When something is off, I can feel that energy before it even happens. Ignorance is truly bliss. I'm jealous of people who can live their lives in peace without noticing everything sometimes. This trait has helped me countless times, but it hurts me emotionally and makes my anxiety worse equally as much, if not more so. It's like being psychic. I can tell when someone is a good manipulator. I can tell when someone is being genuinely nice or when they're acting "nice" because I benefit them or when I have something they want. I see their behavior patterns, the best way to know what a person will do is based on their passed behavior (typically). I also have a really, really good memory. I wish I could just ignore my intuitiveness and not remember every little detail about everything. Shit, maybe I should be a crime detective or a lawyer or something where I could use these skills for good rather than just something that makes my brain stur, I don't know. Do any of you guys struggle with this, like to an extreme degree?
Pastel Lockscreen
Credit : @Argodeonn on twitter
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➵ Jibaku shounen Hanako-kun
➵ Toilet-bound Hanako-kun
⊱ Hanako-kun (Yugi Amane)
⊱ Yugi Tsukasa
⊱ Nene Yashiro
⊱ Kou Minamoto
⟿ Author's Official Art
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“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”
— Mitch Albom
Franz Wright, from God's Silence; "Why Is the Winter Light"
[Text ID: Empty me of the bitterness and disappointment of being nothing but myself]
The voices won't leave me alone,
Crawling out the shadows,
Like vines that have overgrown,
Blocking out the windows
To sanity, to reality
I'm not sure if I want them to leave me
Because atleast they stayed
Unlike the people with empty words and hollow promises
I feel like I'm digging my own grave.
Maybe I've always been desperate for some company even if it destroys me.
As I’m grasping the intentions of the storm, Breeding discord between thunderclouds, My hands try to touch the aerial body of the night, Chasing for voices in the air, That got locked out until sunrise to cool down, I’m Proficient to decipher the ordeal of summerdays. Catching the breeze, Like Nabokov caught butterflies, As subconscious ambiguities ascend like Bubbles in water, Piercing the surface of my consciousness, To tell vivid tales about the opulence My perception gathers.
Kerim Mallée
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“Change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live. Do not try to change people; they are only messengers telling you who you are. Revalue yourself and they will confirm the change.”
— Neville Goddard
“Why? Why does what was beautiful suddenly shatter in hindsight because it concealed dark truths? Why does the memory of years of happy marriage turn to gall when our partner is revealed to have had a lover all those years? Because such a situation makes it impossible to be happy? But we were happy! Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily. Because happiness is only real if it lasts forever? Because things always end painfully if they contained pain, conscious or unconscious, all along? But what is unconscious, unrecognized pain?”
The Reader // Bernhard Schlink
02/27/2021
It feels warm inside.
Like a boiling well that makes you feel fuzzy;
Its water ascends so as to reach the furthest parts of the body.
Its heaviness is counteracted by how lightweight the body feels.
It reminds me of the aftereffects of getting drunk.
Bonds are burdensome.
They are what makes life worth living,
albeit the feeling of burdening someone else with your own emotions or lack thereof obliges you to take a step back or running away on a 180 degree path in comparison to the one you’re on at that moment.
You begin craving that loneliness that picked at your heart every night,the one that made you cry your own blood since tears did not hurt enough.
I want to turn back in time,or keep being the myself i knew before giving out pieces of it to others.
Opening up is not much of a good decision sometimes,or easy to accomplish either.
Everything just hurts.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s flooding my well.
Oh wait—
how long has it been since my well last had a shape?
What is happening around me?
What am I?