romanticizedillness

[romanticizedillness]

You Should Check Out Julius The Dress maker. He's Such an Underappreciated Creepy pasta and He's A real Horror Character. Bonus Points for Julius being confirmed By his Creator As Gay And Autistic<3

okay now you’ve thrown me into a hole from which i am never emerging from.

i’ve been looking at anything and everything i can find about this dude, he’s consumed me like now i get these really intense phases that never actually leave about certain things.

i don’t know my sexuality, not like 100% because when i was like 12 i was scrambled everywhere trying to understand myself and rushing it - therefore rushing through many various identities and labels, so like now im labelless and chill as in im hit in a rush to understand myself yet. I think i overshared again but it doesn’t feel like that because it’s like true? i dunno

[romanticizedillness]

I’m a new writer and lowkey mediocre about it. I like losers, like from Homelander (evil big babies) to Spiderman (sweet flop nerds) type losers, maybe batman (brooding babygirl) if i’m feeling it. 

I usually only write yandere stuff, i blame the gutters of wattpad but i know we don’t mention that place on here.

Also it might be irrelevant but I might have autism? I got checked out by two doctors separately and they both have different opinions, one says yay - one says nay type stuff. Just so you know because if you hate on me and my offputting and weird behaviours, you’re being super mean to a poor maybe-girl with possible tism.

I’m into

Spiderverse

House of Dragon

Grand Theft Auto

Class of 09’

The Boys

Batfamily

Invincible

My Hero Academia

Bully (Canis Canem Edit)

Harry Potter

Creepypasta

Disney Villains

Hunter x Hunter

Monster High

Gotham

DC

Marvel

Slashers

whenever else I find and fall for. Give me suggestions or something, i’d love to write something.

I’m forcing you to give me a prompt and a character.

[romanticizedillness]

Thinking about that time a coworker said that some people choose—like consciously CHOOSE—to live on the street and be drug addicts and another coworker and I chewed him out for a solid half-hour.

NO ONE on this green Earth thinks “You know what would be fun? To become so dependent on a poison that it will wreck my body, ruin my relationships, lose me my job and home, and likely kill me.”

Addiction is like…imagine you’re biking along with your friends, and one of them goads you into going down this one steep hill. For whatever reason (it sounds fun, you’re crushingly bored, you’re insecure and what to prove yourself, your legs are so tired they hurt and it sounds like a reprieve, etc) you agree. You start going down this hill and you’re flying. It’s exhilarating. The world is rushing past. The road gets bumpy. There are warning signs but you’re going too fast to read them. You go faster and faster and then you finally notice that at the bottom of the hill is a great big brick wall strewn with broken bodies and bikes.

You try to hit the brakes, and maybe you wobble but you’ve got too much speed under you to stop. You think about jumping off and see that on both sides of the path it’s a sea of cactus as far as the eye can see.

What do you do? Lay down your bike and shred yourself to ribbons on the hot asphalt and rocks, then walk, bleeding and bruised, back up the steepest hill you’ve ever seen?

Abandon the flight, jump into the cactus knowing how badly it will hurt you when you land and continue to hurt you going all the way back up that same hill?

Hang on for dear life as the road gets rougher and rougher until the quick stop at the bottom?

All life forms have an innate sense of self-preservation so it’s real damn hard to consciously choose a long road of misery and pain over momentary surcease that’s ultimately self-destructive. That is: it’s REAL fucking hard to make yourself jump off that bike and choose the godawful journey back.

Maybe your friends could help you back up the hill. But they’re the same ones who goaded you into going down here in the first place. Maybe they’re still rushing down the slope with you. Maybe they’re already at the bottom.

No one. Fucking. Chooses. This.

Addiction is always, ALWAYS a symptom of something else.