camioutofcontext

[camioutofcontext]

when it rains it pours,

but how big must a puddle grow

before it is considered a pond?

when does a pond become a lake?

i’m drowning,

but i insist that i’m dry.

insist i couldn’t die.

now every single day is overtime.

is extra credit.

is derealized.

i’m drowning but i

wring my clothes

and promise that i’m dry.

it’s good for the flowers, they say.

that’s very good.

you’ll need them soon.

[camioutofcontext]

Vaguely Threatening Twilight Cards Part II

[camioutofcontext]

Making a meme out of every line in Twilight (Meme 310)

Please follow us on Facebook @ makingamemeoutofeverylineintwilight and on Instagram at memeofeverylineintwilight

[camioutofcontext]

SAY IT!!! OUT LOUD!

kdksnjs okay, this is weird but I've been a twilight fan and I've been obssesed with it for like 4 or 5 years and I've NEVER, it that whole amount of time, NEVER DONE A SINGLE DRAWING ABOUT IT. And I've always been saying like "okay, I should do something someday..." even if I'm not into fanarts but, u know what? THE DAY HAS FINALLY COME!!!!!!!!! I MADE IT!!! and I gotta say, I'm really proud that I resisted all the temptations to just drop everything and do nothing, even when a guy told me Edward looked like the Joker... BUT U KNOW HOW *DIFFICULT* IS TO DRAW THAT MAN? I MEAN, ALL MEN ARE HARD FOR ME TO DRAW BUT... u get the point, I can rest easy now

*decode starts playing*

Follow me on @biscuitcami in instagram!!!

[camioutofcontext]

[[ bella swan board ]]

[camioutofcontext]

Soooo hi, I still alive and sick of instagram algorithm so I decided to go back to this place and try luck here🥺

Here's a drawing from some days ago

[camioutofcontext]

Hoy hace 3 años que llegué a Tumblr. 🥳

WOHA

[camioutofcontext]

[camioutofcontext]

(Spanish below)

The process of this drawing is described with two words that are rarely seen together: fast, and difficult.

Fast because, as you will see, I didn't just make my big picasso, nor is it my most detailed drawing. What took me the longest, actually, was figuring out how to capture what I was feeling on the screen. There was something about that original sketch that started from the simple idea of "a chair knotted in vines" that made me not want to touch anything and at the same time want to touch everything. I felt that when I turned it into an original I had to make it cleaner, neater. Add a background, more details, make it look more professional. But I came to the conclusion that all this was nothing more than new traps I was setting for myself to continue avoiding the inevitable.

I always saw that part of me, that part of me represented with a wheelchair, as something "unaesthetic", something not worthy of drawing. I hid it from my drawings just as society hid me, as society taught me to hide myself.

No, no one ever came to tell me expressly (well, maybe once in a while), but it was little acts (or also non-acts) one after another and another and another that as I grew up taught me that there were two parts of me: one good and one bad, one acceptable and one that I had to leave hidden as much as I could. And that, since what I could hide wasn't much, then everything about me was nothing more than a flaw, an annoyance, a mistake that should never have existed, much less been drawn.

I let all those words get tangled up in me, and stagnate me.

I'm slowly learning to accept that part of me, but it's hard when everyone keeps telling you that you shouldn't do it. But to finally be able to draw and publish something about it I think is a big step. As much as I still think it's a horrible and pointless drawing.

Happy disability pride month ✨️

Español:

El proceso de este dibujo se describe con dos palabras que pocas veces se las ve juntas: rápido, y difícil.

Rápido porque, como verán, no acabo de hacer mi gran picasso ni es mucho menos mi dibujo más detallado. Lo que me llevo más tiempo, en realidad, fue el encontrar como plasmar lo que sentía en la pantalla. Había algo de ese boceto original que partio de la simple idea de "una silla anudada en enredaderas" que me hacía no querer tocar nada y a la vez querer tocar todo. Sentía que al pasarlo a original tenía que hacerlo más limpio, más prolijo. Agregarle un fondo, más detalles, que se vea más profesional. Pero llegue a la conclusión de que todo esto no era más que nuevas trampas que me ponia a mi misma para continuar evadiendo lo inevitable.

Siempre vi a esa parte de mí, esa parte de mi representada con una silla de ruedas, como algo "poco estetico", algo no digno de dibujar. Lo oculte de mis dibujos tal y cómo la sociedad me oculto a mí, como la sociedad me enseño a ocultarme.

No, no vino nunca nadie a decirmelo expresamente (bueno, quiza alguna que otra vez si), pero fueron pequeños actos (o también no-actos) uno atrás de otro y otro y otro los que a medida que fui creciendo me enseñaron que había dos partes de mí: una buena y otra mala, una aceptable y otra que debia dejar oculta tanto como pudiera. Y que, como lo que podia ocultarla no era mucho, entonces todo de mi no era más que una falla, una molestia, un error que nunca debería haber existido y mucho menos ser dibujado.

Deje que todas esas palabras se enredaran en mí, y me estancaran.

Poco a poco estoy aprendiendo a aceptar esa parte de mi, pero es difícil cuando todo el mundo sigue diciendote que no deberias hacerlo. Pero el poder, finalmente, dibujar y publicar algo referido a esto creo que es un gran paso. Por más que siga pensando que es un dibujo horrible y sin sentido.

Feliz mes del orgullo disca✨️

[camioutofcontext]

happy disability pride month to disabled people who were scared to call themselves disabled

happy disability pride month to disabled people that don’t prioritize a cure or diagnosis

happy disability pride month to ambulatory aid users/people with invisible disabilities who have had the validity of their conditions questioned

happy disability pride month to disabled people with medical trauma

happy disability pride month to disabled people who have struggled loving a body that doesn’t always support them

happy disability pride month to people with chronic illness who felt they had to hide or minimize their pain in order to be liked

happy disability pride month to disabled people who were bullied or harassed for their disability

happy disability pride month to disabled people who have been criticized for speaking about their disability “too much” or “making it your whole personality”

happy disability pride month to disabled people whose disabilities are messy, chaotic, and difficult for abled people to understand

happy disability pride month to disabled people who thought they could never live a happy, fulfilled life and are doing so anyway.

[camioutofcontext]

(TW FOR ABLEISM, MELTDOWNS, ETC.)

Supporting disabled people is more than just supporting us when you think its cute, easy, or beneficial for you.

If your support ends when you see an adult in public with a diaper bulge, you aren't supporting disabled people.

If your support ends when you see someone drooling, you aren't supporting disabled people.

If your support ends when someone has a violent meltdown in public, you aren't supporting disabled people.

If your support ends when someone needs help being fed, you aren't supporting disabled people.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

I know that you dont think its cute or aesthetically pleasing to try and calm me down and be understanding of me when I throw my communication device across the room and slam my head into the ground because someone laughed too loudly, I know that you think its embarrassing. I know you dont think it's all "uwu cute tism" when I can't shower for a week straight and spend the whole day crying, yelling, and biting myself, but if that makes you angry at me, you arent supporting disabled people.

What is your limit to supporting disabled people? What is your limit to being okay with the fact that I am NOT like your nondisabled friends?

Where does the support end and the disgust start? How long until we are "too disabled" for you?

/not at anyone specific

[camioutofcontext]

do not comment about how write.

do not care if it “make you happy.”

do not care if “make easy read.”

shut up about “am i have stroke” shut up about “make feel like hit by train”

don’t care don’t give shit me write me disability me communicate not about you. me disability not about you. not compliment.

not going say sorry because just how disability make write.

if have accessibility issue sometime have ability reword but never going make perfect grammar sentence for you. conflict access need not my fault. am just person with language communication disorder disability exist.

go away. fuck off.

[camioutofcontext]

Pruebo subir un dibujil por acá a ver si de golpe tengo más suerte(?

Pueden encontrarme en ig como @biscuitcami

[camioutofcontext]

Another cap of trying to understand halsey's notes but just being so silly for

I wish that I was better, for the kids who emulate.

but they should really all know better,

than to take the fucking bait

that I’ve been dangling from this building

with my goosebumps in the cold.

I am nothing but a story for a man until I’m sold.

and he can tell it in the lobby, to the old men at the bar

they’ll all clink his cup

and make shit up.

to take it all too far,

they’ll tell a lie about the summer

where they “once had me alone”

and I’ll reside inside a sonnet.

I’m a picture in a phone.

I’ve aged beyond the angel they all saw inside me then.

a grotesque and fading memory

trapped underneath a pen.

“MPDG” 2023

[camioutofcontext]

I love her and I love she is here back and more close to us

what made you decide to come back to tumblr?

I miss talking to you guys and sharing things in a space that doesn’t have such potential to turn into tabloid-fare. Here I can write a poem about being a terrible evil murderous vampire, and people will be like “oh cool!”. On other platforms that would end up conspiracy or a psychological evaluation lol.

[camioutofcontext]

My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.

[camioutofcontext]

The King of Dreams.

Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.

Morpheus, Sandman.