The Morning Light Perfectly Illuminated Only One Of My Drums.

Being autistic is such an weird experience because I just spent an hour fuming around the kitchen making dinner and trying not to break anything. Then the moment I held big cat (comfort item be praised) I just started crying. Now I'm eating dinner with a massive gray cat, who is a short king and I love him.

Where are the rushed diary entries, as you run with friends to a playground. Where is the harsh, impulsive attitude. When did it all become so soft? This is not at any fault of light, but at the fault of us for not properly documenting the dark. Early morning is not complete without the stinging cold air, tea is not without it's bitterness. When did we start writing only the delicate? You cannot comprehend love without the suddenness of it all, no matter how slow you can try to take it there is the unmistakable surprises love must give someone. Without the impulsivity, the dark, the sudden, everything becomes diluted. And much less true.

I realize that nothing i do on tumblr is really “academic”, thats because im just someone who doesn’t like the current state of the world, likes finding out things; science, mythology, moral, and everything human. And enjoys the general ideal of a academic and chaotic lifestyle

Brand new sticks after a hour and a half of practice.

take the time to appreciate the version of yourself that exists right now, in this moment

I love threatening my dog with, "the rat". Not only because it confuses those around me but also because my dog is deeply terrified of the rat.

I sat there in an almost peaceful silence, if not for the thoughts swishing back and forth in my mind like a broken washing machine, I'd have thought it tranquil. I felt myself choke, I choke and all the thoughts I couldn't swallow. If I felt any better I would have made a joke there, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks. I tried adjusting, maybe the thoughts would disappear like that. They didn't, they bubbled menacingly, they twirled in circle infornt of my eyes. A shuddering gasp for air broke the silence. And then another. A few more as my vision blurred in the dim lighting. It didn't sound like me, rather, like someone else was there, someone else's desperate grabbing for air, someone else's breif and lonely wimper, not my own. I tried to gather myself, I didn't even know what I was crying for. I needed something to block out the quiet cries, before they became racking sobs. Something to put the incessant thoughts to rest, if only for a while.

I think I opened so many tabs google just gave up, no thoughts head empted me and just started smiling

I read a plethora of webcomics and the only I can remember what day of the week it is, is solely based off of when each webcomic updates.