just some idle thoughts.
what is there to do anymore? why should i keep fighting? every day i wake up and find a new monstrocity that just lets me know how much the state despises me and how unsafe it is for me to even fucking exist anymore.
what is there to do?
it doesnt feel like anything is working. everything is so overwhelming and nothing feels like its changing. people are too divided to do fucking anything anymore. fascism is here. it is now. and there wont be anyone to save us from it.
im terrified about facing extermination. im terrified about i and my friends facing extermination.
im so so tired of having all this anger, all this rage, all of this want to change and being nothing but useless. i have no license, no means of income, i live in an isolated area and im riding that sweet sweet poverty line hard. i cant go out and organize because there arent people around. even if there were, gas is now stupidly fucking expensive and we're about to hit a depression-era recession.
everywhere, down the long winding roads here, i see signs from people who want me dead. i hear their conversations with my family. the slurs, the hatred.
what is there to do anymore?
i have so much anger. so much frustration, so much fucking rage and its so fucking useless.
what is there to fight for? wouldnt it be easier to just let it all happen? cause it sure feels like its going to, no matter what.
but i cant. i know i cant. i have to be angry, i have to fight, i have to. i cant surrender to it. but man is it tough.
i just dont know anymore. collective action is the only way to combat this, but its hard when you're the only one in your area and you have no way of collectivizing because you dont have some of the base requirements of being an adult marked off yet.
goodbye, civil liberties. goodbye, right to exist. i wish i knew about my identity five years prior. maybe id be a little safer, and maybe i couldve already started my journey. maybe not.
i'll find solace in my music as always. im just tired and afraid. i know thats what those who are in power and want to eradicate my existence want. and im very sorry to say that there, they've won.
Seeds we sow,
But don't know what we grow.
Make or mar,
Sear flowers on this field of blood.
Hope we seed,
We water and we wait in need.
With Heaven's call,
Unavoidably buying the fall!
Now there's one sun and there is one moon, dear,
And whichever god's the one for you.
Just remember that the one you choose here,
Makes enemies no matter who.
Oh well love is here and so is hate,
But mainly death is what dictates.
Love is endless, immortal they say,
So might be true!
Fair enough, but be that as it may,
Death is just a kiss away.
Death is just,
A kiss,
Away...
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hey I went to Bad At It island and everyone you know was there. yeah turns out you just see the version of them they put forwards in order to not disappoint and in actuality everyone is just trying their best which doesn't always mean succeeding. yeah you were there as well but it's ok because you're surrounded by your friends and loved ones and if you take a moment you'll realise we are all flawed by nature but we are all full of love for one another and that matters more than any skill or success or achievement.
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you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.
(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)
but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.
(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)
there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.
(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)
you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.
(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)
you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.
in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.
but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.
they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.
it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.
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invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)
[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."
Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”
Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.
At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.
"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.
Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”
Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."
In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]
Credits for ID here and here
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