I Need To Hug My Mother And Cry Into Her Neck Because I Miss The Warm Embrace Of Her Womb And This Bed

this cruel envy fills me whenever i see that others are doing worse than me. i think it's a superiority complex or a messed up inferiority complex but there's this voice inside me that parrots "you must always be doing worse than them." everything feels like a competition for the worse because those who feel bad also get attention and i want that attention. i want people to care about me, i want to be sick so people can acknowledge that i'm sick and think about and talk about me like conversation topics so i feel special to them, no matter how terrible it is. i know it would be impossible to achieve this through good things like awards or competitions, so i'll get the attention in the one way i can: by suffering and making everyone aware of it. i'm not good enough that people will care so i'll be sick enough so they'll be forced to care

i love you, i do love you so much but I don't know what you want from me anymore. you consume my day I think about nothing but losing you and just that doesn't feel right. i defend you I argue for you I want to cry but I don't, I don't know anymore

THE DYING. THE DEAD. AND THE UNDEAD SPACE JUNK.

Where Do Old Satellites Go When They Die? from spaceplace.nasa.gov // Zombie Satellites by Antony Johnston on Medium // Point Nemo: Meet Space Agencies’ Spacecraft Cemetery // Long Lost Military Satellite Found By Amateur Radio Operator by Joe Palca and Scott Nueman on NPR // Lincoln Experimental Satellite from Wikipedia Commons // Military Zombie Satellite From 1967 Discovered By Radio Operator Enthusiast by Fabieen Lang on Interesting Engineering // Where Do Old Satellites Go When They Die? from space place.nasa.gov // Long Lost Military Satellites Found By Amateur Radio Operator by Joe Palca and Scott Nueman on NPR // Football 17776: What Football Will Look Like In The Future by Jon Bois // Space Junk by Wang Chung

nadia waheed, "after rego," 2022, oil on canvas

i like playing dumb about not knowing things so someone who cares about me will gently explain it to me and i will feel loved once in a while

i also enjoy peoples faces lighting up when they get to explain something to me

They joys of being a normie passing gay is that you can hear the conversations the straight people are having in your life absolutely uncensored. I feel like KGB spy strolling around in the US during the Red Scare

sometimes, i see myself as one with the ocean. i think it's foolish, i think it's selfish, i think it's outlandish for a human being to even think about comparing themselves to a celestial being as inexplicable as the sea. i think, i've spent too much time with myself tonight, how can i compare myself to the ocean when i don't understand myself? comparisons deserve explanations, they deserve examples, they should have a structure, but when has the ocean had any of this? you see, the ocean has zones. the sunlight zone, the twilight zone, the midnight zone, the abyssal zone, and the hadal zone. the deeper we dive, the less we see. in fact, we can't even dive that deep. even then, most creatures are not capable of surviving in water that deep as the water pressure is incomprehensible, so it's mostly empty. i think about this and i think, oh, that is me. the deeper you get, the harder it is to hold people in, the harder it is that i don't destroy them within milliseconds. the deeper it is, the more mystery there lies, when in reality, the mystery is just emptiness. it's that incomprehensible feeling of utter emptiness that surrounds your stomach and makes it ache in ways that cannot be shown to other people so you surround it with the pressure that can crush people and creatures that are see-through and weirdly surviving because trauma can be repressed but some part of it aches to to be remembered and perceived like some sort of fish that looks like a blob or a megalodon that is a folktale. it doesn't matter. the ocean doesn't want you to explore its depths, if it did, it wouldn't have made it impossible to survive down there if you're not its secret little creatures. the ocean wants you to stay out, i want you to stay out

i have this deep need to stuff myself full of used up dirty towels and let it soak up all my blood so i'm left with just dried organs and i am a useless vessel that is empty of all fluids so i won't be able to cry