Reblog If You Wear Glasses. Too Many Mutuals Don't Know They Have Glasses Wearers In Their Midsts

Maybe if I lay in the grass long enough the dandelions will overtake me and I don't have to do human things anymore.

uk those books you read because they have a certain atmosphere.

Well, my favourite type of books have this one.

Usually something or someplace abandoned, decaying and the atmosphere indicates something is wrong, but you can't place it quite yet.

while reading through such stories, you feel a shiver run down your spine, not the ghost jumpscare kind. The sad, loneliness that haunts something or someone or someplace.

For some reason you picture the colour dark green, the rotten mossy kind, the damp forest floor kind or a blue, a blue so inky and dark, it almost feels like night, almost.

It's cold to the bone, it either rains too much or snows a lot. Secrets are unearthed or buried with it and you just can't wait for more.

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

“August 2nd. Something wants to be said but the words don’t agree.”

— Tomas Tranströmer, from “Baltics”, The Great Enigma: New Collected Poems (trans. Robin Fulton)

My problem is that I live inside my head too much. I drag my life around like a raging demigod dragging a corpse, only no one will come at my door in the dead of the night to ease my fire. I bear a kind of weariness and discontent no sleep can satisfy because the world I wake up to is painfully dull in comparison to the ones I created in my head. I let my thoughts drift to far-off places, to unfamiliar landscapes I'll probably never set foot on just to shun the tedious sameness of days. I escape because I can't bear the vague nausea of being paper skin and hollow bones. I turn in on myself  because people and their expectations bruise me. There is no method in this madness but I will lie straight through my teeth if someone ever asks.

I don't know how long my body will tolerate this somnambulist life I live. There are predators in every world, and sometimes they are made of whispers from the void. What if one day I wake up standing on the edge of  a precipice? I'm scared I'll choose to meet my demons below instead of walking back home. You think you know all about it because I always write about the disquiet in me but my words don't conjure it the way it really is. The suffocation, the paralysis of the soul, the horror of the depths— all are lost in translation. But as long as I never let the dust get to my teeth I can swim back up. I let it gather on my tongue instead, and I use it to taunt  the bony hands in the abyss reaching for my throat.

It's not fair to feel like fading while remaining perfectly solid in everyone's eyes, to be as lifeless as a statue in a dark room while the party goes on just outside the door. That's why in this life there will always be trains I will run after, misty woods I'll dream of running into, and birds I'll stare longingly at until the clouds consume them. I scream these all in papers with a maddening frustration until my temples ache. I hope you know I don't wish to play god, I just want to stop burning.

— artemis, "Sleepwalking"

rb to relieve the back pain of the person u reblogged this from

I’m just gonna leave this here.

i want everyone to know that i NEVER use ":)" passive-agressively ironically sarcastically etc. it is sacred to me. if i use it i am either gently smiling with eyes full of love or smiling as wide as possible so that my eyes close. i always mean it genuinely

quick protip: if someone is crying or freaking out over something minor, eg wifi not connecting, can’t find their hat, people talking too loud, do NOT tell them how small or petty the problem is to make it better. they know. they would probably love to calm down. you are doing the furthest possible thing from helping. people don’t have to earn expressions of feelings.

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