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DM ME FOR BUG TALES
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Moods like this always tell me I need escape
Not like escape from my problems (though that would of course be nice), but escape from me. That stagnant routine becomes a welcome backbone to my day-to-day when I’m really ensconced in something, be it a piece of media or a creative project of my own. Even just a couple hours of being so mentally involved in something that my awareness of myself melts away is deeply restorative. Maybe your depression doesn’t stem from boredom like mine did (I think) but if it does, a little time in the flow state usually does the trick
Edit: this is very therapist-tone and I don’t like it, so I want to also say something chummy and shitposty like “keep existing to enjoy the days Kissinger can’t”
There’s something truly pitiable about people like this who are seeking this level of control over something as inevitable as mortality.
Honestly I’m gonna assume this is what’s gonna happen
It would be by far the stupidest possible future, and that means it’s most likely
Wow now that you mention it this is a pretty serious absence
His bones are earth
His flesh is dust
His breath is wind
Hobbies might have some kind of internal “source” but they also need to be nurtured. You can’t love what you don’t know, you know? I have a bunch of weird interests now and each of them began with not much more than a sort of mental double-take that served as a starting point. Like the question “what is squid ink made out of anyway?” can be the start of an interest in marine biology.
Depression makes it very hard to catch these little moments since it smothers that little mote of curiosity and pleasure that can be the start of a passion.
Wow okay madame you are just gonna do Akhenaten dirty like that ITS POSSIBLE TO LIKE IT AND NOT BE CRINGE OKAY
Might sound a bit corny to say but if there’s nobody else to be open with, you can be open with yourself. Extruding your feelings into words is good for that, do it more.
WITNESS, MEN OF MAIZE, HURACAN WHO IS HEART OF SKY
YOUR BOWLS OF CLAY ARE SHATTERED, THE THATCH IS STOLEN FROM YOUR ROOFS
I sympathize with the disconnect you are expressing between someone who needs to win a 30 year-long military or financial campaign to feel satisfied vs someone who feels satisfaction looking at a cool bug
Human society might be an official Big Deal but I pity those whose thoughts cannot venture beyond it towards the realms of the cosmically huge or microscopically small
: There is a deafening silence here.
: Can the pale achieve a human form? Can it walk and talk and dream its nothing dreams of nowhere?
: It can, the evidence is here. It’s beautiful.
: You should run.
So what you’re saying is that if the sex is had, it should be as debauched as possible since I’m gonna die anyway
I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m implying that people shouldn’t take meds, that’s not how I feel at all. I just can’t help but wonder how much of stimulant use (meds of all kinds really) is to help cope with capitalist reality vs to help manage disorders. In a way, it’s an arbitrary distinction, since this is the reality we live in, but it just makes the status quo feel all the more opaque to me, like I can’t even see what lies beyond.
Capitalism really do be making it hard to be on the right frequency doesn’t it
It always feels like this sort of quandary is utterly defined by its existence in a world order that lets people who don’t perfectly fit their groove starve. Like I can’t even picture what the ideal substance relationship would be without capitalism to define why I would take them. I’m picturing someone with ADHD who, without anything to directly coerce them into doing labor, might just have ADHD and live in a way that is comfortable for them, bouncing between tasks and finding their own groove.
This is not at all to say these drugs are dubious, just that whenever I consider this question I wind up feeling especially asphyxiated by the current status quo.
(If I’m completely off the mark someone tell me, this topic is something I used to grapple with a lot before I personally decided against going on antidepressants in high school, and I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake)
Neither the past or the future is real. What’s real is the here and now, because it hasn’t been filtered into the minor synaptic structural changes that will reconstitute a silhouette of the now, later, if you happen to recall the Now.
The Now is now gone, goodbye. Welcome to the new now!
And here you are reading this post. This post is real, because it’s pressed against your sensory profile, where reality lives. That’s right, my post is the whole of reality right now until you move on to the next one. I hope you had a nice visit.
ACKSHUALLY most members of eusocial insect communities don’t toil and they just hang around chatting and cleaning each other, not even joking
It has been months since I watched and yet my enthusiasm for Furiosa does not seem to have eroded
It was so sick, action movie slop with some fucking PROTEIN for a change, I could write an essay about how clever it was and how subtly it went about it
Honestly I think it’s worse when it’s a language I understand since it makes the sing-talking a lot more frustrating to listen to for me
ELON MUSK YOUR ELDEN RING BUILD WAS THE WORK OF AN INCOMPETENT