A Personal Insight to the Mind of One of the Many

textbookescapist: The more you fuss and criticize and downplay every single decision I make in the...

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 03:24:52 -0500

The more you fuss and criticize and downplay every single decision I make in the game, the worse I’m going to play. All I ever get from you is negatives. Negative words, negative tones, negative attitude and looks. I hate it and it makes me hate you. The harsher you are to me the more I want you to pack up your junk and get out of my apartment. You don’t get to tell me how I use my electricity, or do my job, or sleep or decorate. You sure as hell don’t get to tell me how to play a stupid game. I don’t care how much better you are or think you are. I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore. Leave me alone.

He has been doing this to me for days and every time I try to suggest a solution that caters to me as well as him, he puts it down like it’s nothing. He doesn’t commend my thinking or my ideas, he just pretty much says “No that won’t work; that’s stupid.” I’m almost tired of League of Legends. I’m almost tired of seeing him every day. I’m definitely tired of him taking over my sleeping spot when he stays over. :\

rayoe: iamthespacecadet: I went to public school. SWISS...

Fri, 03 Aug 2012 00:02:16 -0500

rayoe:

iamthespacecadet:

I went

to public school.

SWISS FUCKING CHEESE xD
This is most definitely Karkat or Sufferer playing video games

I can’t stop seeing them

textbookescapist: anotherhomestuck: kaitooo: theminivan: flii...

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 18:43:36 -0600

textbookescapist:

anotherhomestuck:

kaitooo:

theminivan:

fliipsyde:

lonahtem:

and again.. every. time.

what did i just watch

jhsafyuglidsulfhjzsgdflivyg;shujk

welcome back my precious <3

WHY HAVENT DAVE AND TAVROS BEEN PASTED ONTO THIS

REBLOG. EVERY TIME. ALWAYS.

Thousands

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 20:07:57 -0600

I dream
A thousand dreams at a time
Every last one
Gone at the moment
When I wake

A thousand dreams
Of wild adventures
Of beautiful romances
Tragedies
Comedies
Horror-terrors

I dream
A thousand dreams at once
Every last one
A version of
What might have been

Of today
Of tomorrow
Or of yesterday
Sometimes new
Or old replays

Sometimes I’ll see
Us
Others, he or she and you
Furthermore, them or it
Else-wise, just me

Scant-ways view points
Pivoting camera angles
Unfamiliar bodies and senses
Some realistic
Others the obvious dream

But a thousand dreams
A thousand miles
A thousand lives
A thousand stories
Aren’t comfort enough

I lie awake
Before the dreams come
And I wish to sleep for one night
Only to wake up a thousand years from now
Or a thousand worlds from here

Or maybe even both.

Doomed to Run Circles Around Myself

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:42:44 -0600

To see you
Was like seeing
The sky for
The first time in my life
Seeing water
After generations of drought
Seeing the earth break
Into spring after an endless winter

To know you
Has been knowing
The sky like I have
Known it all of my existence
Knowing water
As it has always been a part of me
Knowing the earth
The way I have always lived on it

To have you
Would be
To have the sky
At the tips of my fingers
Water forever contained
In the palms of my hands
The earth wrapped
In the embrace of my arms

But there is my limit:
The sky too far
Beyond my
Reaching fingertips
The water slipping
Quickly free of my cradling palms
The earth too great
And wider than my waning embrace

Nonetheless I
Will keep on
Always reaching out to
The sky
Filling my hands with
Flowing water
Opening my arms to take in
The earth

I hope one day you will be
My sky, my water, my earth

Everything

Reach Out

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:42:14 -0600

Will the sky
Always be
The farthest
The greatest
Limit
Toward which you can reach?

My dearest,
My darling,
Can there be
No distance beyond
To make your goal?

And
For what it’s worth
Am I to blame
For this
Short-coming?
This wall
That keeps you holed up
In place?

If I am a hindrance
Hesitate
No longer!
Real feelings,
real love:
It increases one’s reach
Demolishes limits
Tears down walls.

And if this feeling,
This love does
Nothing
To that extent
Then it is not real
It is not love
If so pursued.

My dearest,
My darling,
I want you
To reach out!
Beyond the sky!
Don’t allow it
To be
The farthest
The greatest.

Let there be no limit
For you
Deserve to reach
Toward anything
Everything you want
Everything you’ll ever want…

Always
Beyond me.

Words from Within

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:41:46 -0600

I wish I could do the things you wish I could do,
and I wish your words didn’t do what they do to me;
but the things you say,
they choke me half to death with the fear,
the excitement,
the joy that they bring to my heart.
It’s like my very soul is aflame;
can’t you, too, see the bright light that you’ve brought into my life?

“I’ve never felt this way before” seems like a cliche jumble of everyday vocabulary compared to the things that flow through my mind, but oh, it’s useless to try putting them into words. I think, though, that I might try anyway, to give you a glimpse of my heart and soul.

“This is all too much for me” is what I hear; echoing, echoing, echoing like sound bouncing off the walls of an empty room.

You’re amazing, even if you don’t believe it; the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. My heart races every time your name appears on the screen of my phone; I think of you, and it’s like my common sense has flown the coop. But you’re so vague with words, so careful, so cold, so sparse; it hurts. Maybe I’m just crazy.

“I love you”; no… I don’t think so; it’s too early for those words; they’re too strong, too strange; they seem foreign if I add your name at the end. All wrong, all wrong.

But then, what can I say? “My affections for you outrank any I’ve ever felt”? Too wordy, cold; robotic, even?

I’m bad at this; no experience. Everything I ever thought of love was but a dream, an illusion; have I been hallucinating all this time? Maybe I still am, if that’s the case.

I lose sleep every other night, desperate for an exchange of words between the two of us; the nights between, I fall asleep early waiting for your reply. I sleep in longer than I mean to, every morning. But even then, with extra sleep, I feel as if I haven’t gotten any rest at all. I don’t think it’s supposed to be that way.
At least, for now, I have nothing to cry about or feel sorry for.

Ah. I think I’ve found the perfect phrase. Maybe. It seems like it might be.

“You’re dear to me.”

Yeah. That sounds about right.

And Then She Bit Me

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:41:18 -0600

Little warm body
Curled up by mine
Content, comfortable
Beauty, to me,
at it’s greatest heights.
Little warm body
full of sounds,
vibrations, happiness.
You hold to me with no prejudice
Only the promise of dear company
A mutual relationship
Against loneliness.
Ah, you turn your tiny head
Up to face me
And teeny paws stretch
To interrupt m—
My typing. A plea for praise and petting.
And then an attack
My swift fingers captured
In temporary play
Oh!
You’re wonderful, sweetheart,
With your little warm body
Stretched across me.
I wonder at you.
Beautiful feline, only still a kitten,
You are infinitely, awfully endearing.

Cope

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:40:53 -0600

When I think
of you
my heart sinks
No longer is there
despair
or sadness
Only painful
disappointment
Dejected feelings
Almost tangible
A shriveled texture
Disgusting
and pitiful
But real
and therefore respectable
However dismal
Still able to cope
and
Move on

The Other End of the Thread

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:40:30 -0600

Great and strong. A mighty formation cut out of stone by centuries of weathering. Water and wind that have passed by at various speeds and in various amounts. Miles of interchanging layers speak volumes of what I have seen. What I have heard. What I have touched.

And here, on this chilled eve, I experience new sights, sounds, and textures. Some that sound and look and feel that same as others I have known, but others different and exotic.

What is it that scrambles with great urgency at my face. My thousands upon thousands of eyes and nerves are reamed with discomfort. Pieces of me fall way with the sliding of what appears to be human limbs. My many hands try to make places for this human’s feet to take hold. Maybe I can push it up. My view is blocked. I will have to refer to this one neutrally for now.

Farther away from my crumbling edge, I feel another’s feet. They are stable, not sliding, turned and walking away from my little struggling companion. More of my face crumbles away, and I feel that the human who gripped me with a savage want of life has forgotten to keep fighting. I taste betrayal in the air.

But, ah! There it goes again. The small thing grabs hold again, kicks at my face and pushes up. I do not blame it, and I wish I could cheer it on. I only fear that if I opened up to give praise, I would ruin all of the human’s focus. It is crying. I feel the sad water on the plateau at which it claws. Maybe, even without my interference, the human feels that it is a lost cause.

It calls out, shrill and desperate, a high tone. This one has a gender to me now. And she is so sad I cannot control my crumbling pieces any longer. More of my face cracks and slides away beneath her and I am so very sorry.

The walking-away human is beyond me now. The crying-for-help human is falling now. See, there she goes. And I see that she is more delicate, smaller than I presumed because of my size. And she lies crumpled up on the floor of my canyon, far from my face. I despair over the fact that I could not help her. I could not push her up. But I am assured that one day she will be able to get back up and climb my face again.

The plateau above awaits her. Maybe so, too, does the walking-away human. Maybe the walking-away human will become the walking-back human. And maybe that sad water will become joyful water. And maybe she’ll be helped up by someone more capable than the face of a cliff.

When I was Hanging by a Thread

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:39:44 -0600

You know the scene where one of the main character is hanging off a ledge, holding on for dear life and there’s only one other person there who can save this person just by taking his or her hand?

I know more than just this scene; I know what it feels like to be the person whose arms are getting weak, who can’t hold on much longer, who’s slipping. Mind you, the experience in my case wasn’t life or death. I’d be dead if it were.

In the case of the second character in the scene, there are different reactions you can witness. They might turn out to be a protagonist and save the first character. Or they may do just the opposite and go so far as to make sure the first really does slip and fall. Or maybe the second character will just turn and walk away. It all depends, more or less, on the development of the characters and their relationship beforehand….

For me, this was the moment that showed me a lot of the truths I was missing. Or maybe they were just the truths I didn’t want to see, so I was avoiding them without realizing it. I guess when I saw his back, getting farther away from me, it brought everything to light.

My grip weakened there for a second and my body slid closer to oblivion. The fact that I noticed and brought myself to a jolting halt didn’t matter either way. I could have clawed and scrambled and screamed and cried until my fingers and my throat were raw, and the situation would still have had the same dim outcome.

The ground in my grasp crumbled. He was out of my sight now, and I was falling, but I wasn’t the least bit surprised. The moment he turned around I knew it had been doomed from the start.

But I guess that’s what I get, being a hopeless romantic. No. A helpless romantic.

And even now, as I lie here, a crumpled mess at the bottom of that cliff of despair, I admit that there still isn’t a day that I don’t think about him or wish that I’d been able to chase after him instead of watching him walk away from me knowing that he’d be walking away for good.

With my Hands

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:38:24 -0600

With my hands, small and fragile, I reach out to grasp what I cannot. There it is, ahead of me: my goal, my happiness, my peace. It is everything I wish for personified: a grand double-door, with golden handles and rusted hinges.

The distance to that personal heaven is so great, yet so small; within sight, yet always out of reach. I have struggled forever to make it. To touch it. But forever is endless, isn’t it? It will forever be beyond arm’s length.

So, with my hands, small and frail, I fight for no reason. I get hurt, and I fall down, but I heal, and I get back up to keep going. I don’t want to give up. I won’t let my dream escape me. I want to be whole.

The personal hell I struggle against is self-maintained. I refuse to settle for less than my goal. Less than my happiness. Less than my peace. I can’t let go of the things that I want. I have to reach out for those doors until I can finally grab hold of them. Until I can finally pull them open, in spite of their rust. In spite of their weight.

I will grasp what I cannot. One day. Then, I will be happy.

Up and Down

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:38:01 -0600

Your face, my face
The ground shakes
Air quakes
Rakes
Through my lungs
I’m hung
Up
In knots
Over thoughts
Necessary process
Repetitive losses
I don’t think I’ll make it
Can’t take it
You’ll break it
Break up
Brakes out
(trout)
Illusions
Conclusions
Delusional
Refusing all
Logic
Clock ticks
Might take it
Down
Sight and sound
All around
Profound
Astounding
Grounding
And I’m standing
Demanding
Commanding
A wall
A column
About to fall
Over
Moreover
A facade of independence
Dependent
On you
Who
Of all people
Destroyed my steeple
A needle
A ripple
Ripping apart
The calm
There’s a storm
No form
I’m torn
Scorned
Scattered
Battered
Tattered
No ladder
Only a matter
Of time
No more lime
light
Despite
And in spite
Of the fight
Taking flight
Losing might
Too bright
Too late
Delayed
Splayed
On the floor
No more
No less
Emotional
Emotionless
No caress
A mess
Detest
Instead
Can’t breath
Tight chest
Failed my own test
Of strength
Seems like
I’m still not old enough
Not tall enough
To ride
This roller-coaster
Inside.

Poor Connection

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:36:25 -0600

Blinking lights
Rage
Not connected
It won’t load
Can’t get
To
The next page…

Desolate

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:35:53 -0600

Chest cold
Lungs tight with silent words
My face is hot with the effort
Keeping everything inside
There won’t be tears here
Putting off the color as an effect of the hot air

Suitcase, packed and weighed
Bag slung over shoulder, set to depart
Tentative farewells and promises to keep in touch
I won’t wait with you; no obligation to.
Less chance for that sappy tearful goodbye
Relief and a knot, twisted together in my stomach

So there you go, luggage in hand
Walking across the small parking lot.
And I, suddenly alone, climb into the car
Vowing not to cry here. I won’t cry here. Please stop hurting.
Engine running, car in gear, out of the parking lot
Sooner than expected and already out of sight of the station

No longer there, and the tears return, full force
A metal battering ram against a dam made of sticks
Emotional flooding
It shouldn’t feel like this. That was the rule, right?
To avoid getting hurt, to stay strong and whole and alone
And there’s the stickler. The bottom line. The stabbing blow.

I’m alone.
And it’s my own damn fault.

Upturned

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:35:35 -0600

Magnetic field
Scrambling
My instincts
Stronger than any
Gravitational pull
I’m
Flying and Falling

Arms out
Wings
Graceful strokes
Catching no air
But held
Aloft
By imagined bliss

Upside down
World
Turned over
Sky and earth
In disarray
Seeing
But not believing

Clear truth
Ground
Approaching quickly
Gravity in full
Gilded lie
Shatters
With the impact

Our Hands

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:35:17 -0600

Holding hands
Connecting
Mine small
With yours big
Lacing, loving
Comparing
Yours and mine.

Growing up.

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:34:56 -0600

Dynamite rebellion
Breakout
Adrenaline rush
“Free at last!”
Going, running
Gaining
Brand new shackles.

Spiral

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:34:27 -0600

Delirious syndrome
Spinning
Compound, complex
Fabulous furious daze
All pretty
And
All messed up.

Downpour

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:34:08 -0600

This feeling
Numb
Like cold
Grey rainy days
The fact
Plain:
Not good enough.