meowihart

[meowihart]

Just a girl with a little crush hahah maybe hahah gulp I hope I’m normal about this hahahah *pulls on collar nervously*

[meowihart]

I need to be shot by a sledgehammer with a gun

[meowihart]

I need to paint myself as those really famous beautiful old paintings with gods and humanity and stuff except it’s just me lying in bed with my blanket draped on me delicately like a robe

[meowihart]

If I get re-fixated on infinity train, I’m making a self insert as a form of therapy idc

[meowihart]

Uh oh! Voice memo of me crying *gulp* I hope I say completely rational things that fully and accurately reflect my outlook on life

[meowihart]

Blood in my cuticles and nail beds 😋😋😋

[meowihart]

I wish I had 5 billion dollars so I could be a patron of the arts and commission every artist to draw my hyperfixations and not need a job so i can spend all my days drawing my hyperfixations

[meowihart]

I love my little ramblings 😊😊😊

Why do you say things that do not make sense, little horse?

Get a new brain!!

[meowihart]

They say I was set using malloc the way I need to be freed

[meowihart]

I cannot wait to write down the visions that get laser blasted into me so that I can wake up one day and read them and not know what the HELL I was talking about

[meowihart]

My first words were “Hello World” output as a string literal except they forgot the null terminator and so I’ve just been outputting random garbage from my memory for 18 years.

[meowihart]

I need to be studied by scientists please.

I want them to scan my brain and look at the images and show me pictures of my brain and I want to see my brain and I want the smart people to see my brain and study it and say “Wow you have such an interesting brain! We must study you!” And then I say “Yay! Please study me please please!” Because I want to feel special and also because I want to know everything that’s wrong with me.

So then I live my life in a white room. A white room. You know- the white room? You know! The light. The ever expanding. Endless endless. I get lost in my enclosure. But then they open the door again.

The let me out and run some tests.

I color in some shapes. I tell them that circles are red and squares are blue. Triangles are yellow, but everyone knows that already. I laugh, but they don’t laugh with me. I stop. I look away, ashamed. I cry. They write things in their tiny notepads. I apologize, but they reassure me, “You’re doing fine.” I stop crying.

Then they have me solve a maze. First they gave me a paper. “It’s blank,” I said.

“Flip it over.”

“Oh..” a maze. A maze! Oh I love puzzles. I go through paths in my head, eliminating the easy dead ends. I look at the start and finish points and solve from both ends, joining the two lines in the middle. After I’m finished I draw little hearts in the white space of the worksheet. I like the pen. I mean- Of course I would. I chose this pen. I did. They laid out a whole row full of pens.

Standard pens- red, blue, black.

Colorful pens- pink, purple, blue.

Some are hard. Plasticky. A few rough, a few smooth and shiny. Some have a more silicone texture, kinda rubbery.

I alternate pens a lot. I have certain phases of pen if that makes any sense at all. I’m quite fond of certain textures and that fondness ebbs and flows constantly. Right now though, I use a black pen. A black ink pen I should say- the pen itself is a kind of dark red. Hmm, yes, this one- yes. This one is nice right now.

I never pick the pencil.

At some point after I finish the maze they interrupt me while I’m drawing on the page. “Yes, yes, well done. You solved it, good job. You are very smart.”

I smile.

I am smart.

“The next test is ready, come with me.” So I follow them to the big room. The one where the more physical tests are held. The room is set up as a maze. They don’t tell me what to do, but I do it anyways. I struggle with dead ends, but I brute force my way through. Just stick to the right. Just stick to the right. Eventually I reach the end. They applaud. I soak in the attention. I get cubes of food as a treat. Why do they bother to cut them into perfect cubes, I wonder… It is good though. Good size. Predictable. Hard edges. Good.

Later they take more pictures of my brain. They study them again. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong per say- you’re just-“

“Why am I built wrong?”

“There is no wrong way. Just a standard and an alternate approach.”

“But I feel wrong.. I know I’m different- I don’t feel bad about being different necessarily. I’ve always known I was weird- ever since I was a little kid- but I never really felt directly ashamed of it. But.. I’m different BECAUSE I feel bad. Normal people don’t feel bad. Not the way I do.”

“We know.. that’s why we’re trying to fix things.”

…

I speak up again, “Will I ever feel normal?”

They don’t answer.

#Ineedtobestudied #pleasestudyme #shouldicamel casethis

[meowihart]

Hello thisis me this is what I look like hello am I beautiful

[meowihart]

Missing the draw feature of instagram stories, gonna see if tumblr has something similar

[meowihart]

Started shaking and almost crying in anger/frustration/sadness/???? Because some guy took my seat in class

I do not like it but there was true hate in my heart.

For you, HATE.

HATE.