whyyy is any attempt at being productive like an endlessly dragging negotiation with a kindergardener like okay buddy we'll go to the library and put the phone in the locker okay? Yes you can scroll tumblr later okay. Yes you can watch that mildly interesting two hour long video later, now it's time to do the thing that you actually deeply care about and want to do. No it's not boring, remember, you wanted to do this, you were excited for it? Yes I know thinking about it is more fun than doing it but I promise once you do it it'll be very satisfying. I know it's already the afternoon but there's still many hours in the day so it's not wasted yet, we can still do things. No don't grab your phone again. Yes, you can have a snack too. Come on now please.
I mean I know why, it's the ADHD, but still you'd think I'd get better at this eventually
Finally watched Elfen lied after only watching the 1st episode when I was like 10 lol
he just looks so torture-able . like it would be a disservice NOT to torture him.. . he WANTS to be tortured
*looks at books* too tired for you *looks at films* too tired for you *looks at art supplies* too tired for you *eyes fall on tumblr* oho ho
a messy vent comic
People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.
I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.
I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.
There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me
Writing sometimes feels like a strange disorder you just kind of cope with by being creative. Like your brain randomly decides to dump a million-piece puzzle in front of you and says, 'Solve this or we will never think of anything else, ever.' You toil away for years and by some miracle you solve it, and it's the most fulfilling, exhilarating feeling in the world. It's perfect. You did it. And your brain is like, 'OK, here's my idea for three sequels and a spinoff.'
Feel like I’m hopping fandoms every week
Anyway Rarity is a queen diva fashionista goddess prima donna fashion designer queen all hail
smooch