"i Wonder If We Ever Think Of Each Other At The Same Time."

the thing about autism is it makes speech feel like ice skating in winter boots. autism will make your mouth feel like its barely gaining traction as you slip over enunciations and slur your words together and then youre going too fast by far and you crash into the wall

Italy...

i dont even read posts that are more than 30 notes. its all just highly produced shlock made to be consumed by an audience, instead of real art. theres no heart. theres no rain. it stopped raining here 5 years ago and all the rivers have run dry and the postman (postwoman, because our town went woke) stopped showing up. i ran out of food and i dont like facebook. there are twelve matte black birds who caw ar the top of each hour and every day im getting closer to their last beautiful note. god help me

10% luck 20% skill 15% concentrated power of will 98% exhibitionist 90% brat 85% rope bunny

i love archeology for the sole reason of knowing that we've always been the same. we've always admired the stars, always wondered about the purpose, the creation, the higher power. we're connected by art, music, dance, laughter we've shared with eachother. i can feel our history in every handshake, in every smile, every tear on my cheek. we've always been human, looking up to the sky, wondering, searching for answers, feeling as alive as ever.

the beatles invented sex the rolling stones figured out you could do it with women

truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.

youll live inside a thousand beautiful memories rippling into each other forever inside my mind. ill take you on a trip to my grave

learned how to use blenders film making tools