endor-fen

[endor-fen]

- - ramble - -

havent been able to write on my journal so im writing online instead. sure i could put this in my notes app but the last time i did that, people who could look at my screen looked at me funny.

anyways

tw//suicide

mostly just want to get some circulating thoughts in my head. i think my avoidance is at an all time high. ive not gone outside in more than a week. ive been..stagnant on many fronts. i owe many things -- i owe excellence that i cannot deliver. i need to deliver. but i can't and i cant and i am on the brink of crashing out because of it.

i know what i need to do but is something so wrong with me that i cannot? i should be able to. i just have to write. to put words into a shitty word processor and finish this goddamn thesis. i have to reply to people. i have to face those emails. face the march of time.

the thought of living so long is harrowing.

the thought of still being here makes me suffocate.

why try so hard to keep someone like me alive? if i am so dysfunctional that i need to pay for pills that don't make me want to off myself, why must i still be here? there are others. there are others better and more suited for this world than i.

and yet and yet and yet i persist.

i know it is wrong to muse of things like this. you dont get to this age with this mindset without that being tunneled into your brain over and over and over. the knowledge is bone deep and innate and yet why does it never stick? it is wrong and yet i come back to it.

i do not harm myself in ways that cannot be seen. slashes upon the arm have never been my style. instead i languish without progress. instead these thoughts whir in my head in a constant fury.

i got mad at the therapist when he said 'it must be so hard for you to feel so worthless.' i did not feel worthless then. i felt the reality of my ideations without any of the self loathing. today i feel both. i feel the weightlessness of my being and the futility of my continued life. why must i persist when i go back to these thoughts.

i know it gets better. it has gotten better before. but that does not stop it from happening.

[endor-fen]

when i was 18 i kept arbitrarily making the ages of my dnd characters 21 because hey! that's like my age but a bit more and it makes me look more mature. now i actually AM 21 and i just realized that I can't keep arbitrarily doing that any more because???

[endor-fen]

absolutely malding i used a sick ass name for an npc i made in a west marches where i cant own any of the content i make.

carmilla and cenote allemande my beloveds

[endor-fen]

Porn bots go away 😭

[endor-fen]

I have GOT to remember I have this account because I think I'm starting to annoy the people I usually talk to with my winding thoughts

Okay so right now I'm thinking of a small spat I got into on TikTok. The original TikTok itself was critiquing more how users of the platform like to say that queer and kink culture is gross and to bring back kinkshaming and all that while in the same breath promoting how minors sexualize themselves under the guise of liberation and yadadada. I don't usually engage but I do agree with the point, especially how it's been so noticeable lately that there's been a rise of puritanical culture hiding behind the veneer of being progressive.

I don't wanna reiterate the argument, but I want a place to put my thoughts because I need to review and they are otherwise taking up space.

Because kink is like, not at all "getting off to beating up women" and that's frankly a really uninformed opinion about it. But a lot of people seem to equate it with that. Now personally I think that's more porn culture, and not kink, because kink is a space to safely explore varied aspects of intimacy.

Like, it's not even limited to how people find pleasure in pain (e.g. what people seem to conflate with the whole "beating up women" part). A lot of the time kink is conceptual. Power dynamics, ownership, breeding, etc. And even when it's physical, there's a lot of care, investment, and research done to make it safe, like where to properly choke someone in a way that doesn't suffocate them but instead cuts off blood to the brain so it feels like it, how to properly tie knots, buying low temp candles, assigning safe words and boundaries-

I'm not a link expert by a long shot, but I am aware that practicing kink is purposefully done, so it's a bit frustrating to see it so crudely equated to getting off to abuse.

Abuse isn't consensual! Kink is very much consensual! At least, ideally.

It also frustrates me that the person on TikTok said it's a feminist point to be anti-kink. I'm extrapolating a bit, but I dunno. It kinda feels like they're not even taking into consideration people who enjoy taking the pain or other "degrading" aspects. Like, kink won't be kink without the other side of the coin. It's not just people who get off to what you make out to be abuse (it's not), it's also people who willingly participate in it because THEY get off to that.

There's much to be said about how porn has warped people's perceptions too with regards to pain and power dynamics in the bedroom, but the kink community does not deserve the puritanical slander it gets.

But anyways, thoughts have been placed. I can now ignore the TikTok person and review

[endor-fen]

Suddenly I am a child again, looking up at the parents who cannot provide what they had promised. It hurts, of course. But you know they cannot give. You know that after you've been let once, twice, too many. But you cannot be mad. Money is tight and your needs are oh-so little compared to the problems they face. In the end, you learn not to expect anything from these people who say they love you. You grin and thank them for the thoughts, for the sentiment, yes. But in the end-

Well, in the end, it doesn't matter. Nothing will come of it. Nothing but disappointment.

Now I am older and I look at you. I look at promises of time spent together, longingly at promises of assurance. You say the words easily enough, after all. And of course, of course I try to believe you.

But in the end (is it the end?),

I hold empty shells in my heart.

They cannot give, you cannot give. It is not that they don't love me, but they just can't.

Do you love me?

Please tell me. Otherwise,

Otherwise,

Otherwise I forget.

In the face of aridity and disenchantment...

I've forgotten how it goes already.

Perennial, it says, I think.

I don't know.

This weight in my chest is becoming lighter.

[endor-fen]

Lmao why do I vent on TikTok I literally have a writing Tumblr

[endor-fen]

i am Suffering™ from having a creative influx during the height of my exam season

[endor-fen]

had to teach a friend on the spot how to pirate academic books and I couldn't think of any books to pirate as an example that I don't already have so I used the DSM-5

[endor-fen]

but does it pass the bechdel test

[endor-fen]

musings // 2

oh my god im so tired right now but my eyes refuse to feel it.

the fatigue is physical in the way it lingers in the sinews of my legs, on the soles of my feet, in the sinews connecting bone to flesh and heart to mind. the day weighs upon me like lead.

but my eyes are wide and awake. alert. it stares upon the screen it is cursed to gaze upon with a clarity contrasting its worn down sight.

how unfair it is that they force their vessel to lay awake

[endor-fen]

revisiting this and what the fuck. i wish i could write like this again.

musings // 1

today i just finished listening to the finale of the magnus archives after putting it off for so long and man. it hit me like a goddamn truck. i've been listening to this thing since i started college and jesus, all the memories associated with it make my heart hurt

it's 3 am and i wake up on the couch of my aunt's cramped apartment. the noise from the city is barely a thrum behind the dusty window that overlooks the railway and the concrete jungle behind it. i mull about for a moment, thinking about the homework i'm going to cram at the library between the scant windows of time i have between subjects. then, i get up to make breakfast and shower in the freezing water of our little bathroom. the day's preparations are for the thursdays and the tuesdays, and it is a tuesday. in the end, i exit the apartment with my earphones plugged in and a podcast loaded up for the commute.

the walk to my usual stop isn't a long one, but the streets of a city never sleep. not really. it breathes, though, and in the darkened hours of the early morning, its breaths are serene and cold, given light only by the lamps and the signs of the towers around it. it is in between the rasps that the music starts and i nestle myself within a walk of two worlds.

in the bus i find myself a seat, somewhere close to the door if i'm lucky enough to avoid the winding lines. the introduction ends, and the actual tape rolls. through the glass of the commute, i look at the smog tinted city roll past me. it's not a pretty picture, with the roadside choked by jeepneys and bustling bodies moving like throngs of a pulsing organ. but it's a comforting picture, and one i barely notice as i listen to the words and the horrors of a narrative weaved of a world plagued by fear. a world where its people are strung about by things beyond them, and yet they try to live and yet they die.

it reminds me of where i am, but more visceral. more literal.

by the time i get off to my next stop, the episode is midway through the statement. i maneuver myself through a street and into an alcove leading to another station, this time for jeepneys to the campus. the story continues, but the backdrop is different. canopies of the forest that surround the university give way to shanties and establishments. the air is cool in the way is rushes past me, warm in the way it lingers thanks to the fit of the many bodies cramped in the vehicle. more horrors play out, and yet there is hope. fleeting, but there. like the light of the sun barely cresting the horizon as the roads lead us further in.

it is another morning. walk to the building where my first subject is, and it is silent save for the whirring of the world behind my ears. the department is far from the others, tucked behind institutes of other sciences and a wide field where we just held a small get together a few days ago. there are screams on the tape now, maybe, and i reach the building. it is still empty and i realize i still have an hour, so i play the next episode. i find a spot on a bench by a tree, watching the field beyond it and the grey-blue tinted skies that frame what little greenery there is in this damn city

and i breathe

i miss the sharpness of that 6 am air. the solitude of the early morning and the moments i spend listening.

i miss the little moments this pandemic has stolen from me.

things were barely starting back then. i was singing a prelude to a tune i didn't know would end, and it hurts so much remembering what could have been.

[endor-fen]

found family trope: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

found family trope but they’re misfits, outcasts, and criminals: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[endor-fen]

musings // 1

today i just finished listening to the finale of the magnus archives after putting it off for so long and man. it hit me like a goddamn truck. i've been listening to this thing since i started college and jesus, all the memories associated with it make my heart hurt

it's 3 am and i wake up on the couch of my aunt's cramped apartment. the noise from the city is barely a thrum behind the dusty window that overlooks the railway and the concrete jungle behind it. i mull about for a moment, thinking about the homework i'm going to cram at the library between the scant windows of time i have between subjects. then, i get up to make breakfast and shower in the freezing water of our little bathroom. the day's preparations are for the thursdays and the tuesdays, and it is a tuesday. in the end, i exit the apartment with my earphones plugged in and a podcast loaded up for the commute.

the walk to my usual stop isn't a long one, but the streets of a city never sleep. not really. it breathes, though, and in the darkened hours of the early morning, its breaths are serene and cold, given light only by the lamps and the signs of the towers around it. it is in between the rasps that the music starts and i nestle myself within a walk of two worlds.

in the bus i find myself a seat, somewhere close to the door if i'm lucky enough to avoid the winding lines. the introduction ends, and the actual tape rolls. through the glass of the commute, i look at the smog tinted city roll past me. it's not a pretty picture, with the roadside choked by jeepneys and bustling bodies moving like throngs of a pulsing organ. but it's a comforting picture, and one i barely notice as i listen to the words and the horrors of a narrative weaved of a world plagued by fear. a world where its people are strung about by things beyond them, and yet they try to live and yet they die.

it reminds me of where i am, but more visceral. more literal.

by the time i get off to my next stop, the episode is midway through the statement. i maneuver myself through a street and into an alcove leading to another station, this time for jeepneys to the campus. the story continues, but the backdrop is different. canopies of the forest that surround the university give way to shanties and establishments. the air is cool in the way is rushes past me, warm in the way it lingers thanks to the fit of the many bodies cramped in the vehicle. more horrors play out, and yet there is hope. fleeting, but there. like the light of the sun barely cresting the horizon as the roads lead us further in.

it is another morning. walk to the building where my first subject is, and it is silent save for the whirring of the world behind my ears. the department is far from the others, tucked behind institutes of other sciences and a wide field where we just held a small get together a few days ago. there are screams on the tape now, maybe, and i reach the building. it is still empty and i realize i still have an hour, so i play the next episode. i find a spot on a bench by a tree, watching the field beyond it and the grey-blue tinted skies that frame what little greenery there is in this damn city

and i breathe

i miss the sharpness of that 6 am air. the solitude of the early morning and the moments i spend listening.

i miss the little moments this pandemic has stolen from me.

things were barely starting back then. i was singing a prelude to a tune i didn't know would end, and it hurts so much remembering what could have been.