adeadbunny

[adeadbunny]

🌳💜🐥

[adeadbunny]

Notes (IV)

My home was not a place. It was a mouth – a terrible, distorted, maw – and it shoved food up into my throat and made me choke. The room’s walls were made of a sticky goo that stuck to one another and to me, and there were things there that I couldn’t see – things that were, quite literally, sharp and pointed. My home was not a place. It was a horrible torture chamber, made of things I didn’t want to be.

Someone, I don’t know who, said that the world was a cathedral. I believed them. Maybe it had always been like that, but why did it need to be like this, of all times? The world was a cathedral, a place of great, inchoate splendor. Why was it made of devoured things?

I loved my home, but I didn’t love it enough to stay. I left it for the world, and I tried to fit in here, in this land of smoke and cheese and macaroni. The people here were strange. The only things we had in common were that we were both women, and that we were both homosexuals. What was so special about either of us that made us different from the others? What made us so different from the Others?

Why were we here? What had brought us together? Would we survive?

I was sad, and angry, and lonely. The Others were cruel, repulsive creatures. I was afraid for myself, afraid of what would happen to me if I was forced into the world. Would I survive? Would I be strong enough?

The world was a bright, painful dream, and I was being dragged farther and farther into it. I would not be a part of it. I would not survive. I would be a piece of nothing when the sun went down.

I looked around me. There was no one there, but I could see them, in the flame and the smoke, the things that we had taken from the world. There were hundreds of them – things like me, things no one had ever wanted before. The world’s past was a nightmare, but I knew that there would be a tomorrow, and it would be better.

I imagined myself escaping from the nightmare. I imagined myself boarding a spaceship, traveling to a new world, and starting a new life, with someone new. I pictured myself as a woman, a woman with a home and a family – traveling overseas, meeting another woman, and having a new kind of relationship.

I made my choice. I was going to live. I was going to survive. I was going to make someone happy, and maybe someday, I would see her again.

[adeadbunny]

Ratio

Ratio Tile is trying to think of a way that he can say that he is “one of the good ones.” He can’t think of anything interesting to say to that effect, and he’s not sure he should leave it untagged.

He goes through his files, looking for some way to phrase it that will be as unsullied by the muck of celebrity as he is himself. He thinks about saying “Original Fiction by Ratio Tile,” but that suggests something. He thinks about saying “the original fiction from my side business,” but that suggests the idea that Original Fiction is something unique. No, he thinks, “Ratio Tile side business.” That suggests something that he can own, that suggests a coherent identity, that can be conveyed by a title. And so he goes title by title, line by line, looking for some place where the line seems to end and his identity seems to begin.

The word “murder” appears in a listing of his business ventures. That’s nice. It’s a nice, mild, ordinary word that hardly seems to fit this new posting order at all. He searches his brain for why it might be in there – for some reason that will make him a genius when viewed from inside his head – and eventually finds it: “murder is my special interest.” Brilliant! Now there’s a title for an Untagged Post. He clicks the publish button, expecting to feel nothing, and is pleasantly surprised when a few hundred notes appear on his dash within seconds.

(He doesn’t expect any of this. He has tried so hard to be good that he’s almost offended himself – and, on occasion, he does feel a little offended. But that’s all in the past, and it’s so far in the past he doesn’t remember it. He’s been so careful not to do anything wrong that he doesn’t remember not doing anything wrong. He thinks “ratio has a special interest in murder” might be the most self-unfeeling thing he’s done in a while. If he feels offense, it’s hard for him to tell if it’s caused by the post or the jokes about it on his dash, or by the thousands of people who’ve endorsed the post and the jokes. He doesn’t want to think about the numbers. He doesn’t want the numbers to have consequences, ever. He is not Ratio Tile, and they are not Ratio Tile, and he is not into murders.)

He finds the most recent post, three days back, and reads it. He was thinking about this business venture, this murder obsession, for about six hours. Then, for the last time, he was not thinking about it.

The man in the brown suit is coming to get him.

And she knows what he is. She knows he is the man who will die soon. It is only a matter of when.

She told him already. She told him what she wants.

She knows what he is.

She knows she can make him afraid.

She tells herself she will make him afraid again and again.

She makes herself take all of her clothes off.

She has always been so good at the things that keep her alive.

She tells herself she will make him afraid again and again.

She tells herself she will make him afraid

until his ears bleed, until his eyes burn,

until the world is so far away

it can never be brought back.

She thinks about how it will be when it is over.

She thinks about how it will be when it is over for him.

She thinks about how it will be when it is over for all of them.

She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at him.

She knows he is the one who will die soon.

[adeadbunny]

when a bunny stomps

[adeadbunny]

Anime_irl

[adeadbunny]

we should invent a new thing that’s cool like doing drugs but more enjoyable

[adeadbunny]

Horohorohorohoro 👻

[adeadbunny]

mario is a sexless being. mario does not have a penis. you will NEVER convince me that mario has any type of genitalia.

mario’s body is like a most peculiar type of abomination. it is a nugget of royal jelly. it is not a man, it is not a woman, it is some perfect synthetic being made to please the most beloved of mrs. edward and mrs. lucius. a abomination, but a true joy.

mario is the embodiment of pure unadulterated joy. he is a being of such unique proportions and beauty, that to stand beside him is to melt into the ground. he is the epitome of romance.

mario has a body like a steel trap, closing all around him. once you step into the trap, you can never get out. the trap has a mind, too. the trap has a plan. the trap is a vicious little girl, who is always calling your name, but never has any answers.

[adeadbunny]

everything is ok, I would just like to die but everything is ok

[adeadbunny]

“Fipronil - kills fleas, ticks, and rabbits”

— exotics prof

[adeadbunny]

[adeadbunny]

[adeadbunny]

i hope for years that everything will get better, but it is getting worse and worse

[adeadbunny]

[adeadbunny]

being mentally ill + suicidal at a young age (before 18) is. strange, because you grow up with this idea that one day you’ll finally snap, turn off, be brave enough to kill yourself, so you don’t really plan for the future. adulthood- further life, it isn’t for you, nor do you feel included within the future of it. it isn’t.. it isn’t part of your life plan.

and then before you know it you’re 18 and you’re an adult but you never thought you’d get this far and sure it’s great that you’re still alive you guess but also. you feel so alone + lost in a world you never expected or planned to be a part of.

[adeadbunny]

lack of control

[adeadbunny]

t h r e a d s .