#I've finally regained the ability to Read Books at least

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Sometimes I read something very Smart and understand maybe 10-20% of it and actually get so mad/sad bc I can see in my mind's eye the alternate trajectory of my life where the English teacher's pet me of 15 yrs didn't have a massive mental breakdown and lose the ability to concentrate on books and the interest in analysing what made them good or bad for a whole fucking decade and made it to age 26 with a decent literary knowledge base and a extensive toolkit of reading comprehension skills and a boatload of informed opinions, and the current timeline version of me who's a mid-20s burnout with memory issues who has to keep flipping back to check names or turning helplessly to Google for fruitless context hunts gets so bitter and frustrated at how that guy probably gets to just breeze through the clever books and probably can even talk about them cleverly to others, like a PRICK

[thebibliosphere]

Phangs called me out in the most hilarious way.

For years I've been planning on painting the ceiling (or alternatively the wall my bed is put against) like a celestial map as soon as I moved out from the flatshare-from-hell I was in. Three, four years, at least, and before there were vague plans for it, too.

Fast forward to me finally moving at the end of last month and thinking 'Huh but what if I ever need to move again, I can't take a wall with me', and 'Knowing myself I'll end up with a half painted ceiling when I inevitably run out of steam halfway through' so I decided instead of painting it, I would find dark blue curtains to embroider the celestial map onto which I would then pin to the ceiling; for ease of transport should it ever become necessary. You know, because painting a ceiling wouldn't have been tedious and finnicky enough.

After moving, I also miraculously regained the ability to actually sit down and read, so I picked a book, sat down, read it cover to back, and only then got up again. Imagine my surprise when a certain vampire in the story'd had the exact same idea as me, only with the certainty that paint would be a viable option due to longterm tenancy. I may have yelled in delighted outrage.

And yes, I have unmedicated ADHD. (Vlad is mine to protect now. Would have been, anyway, but now it's personal.)

Lmao, this is so funny. Uh, sorry not sorry? If it makes you feel any better, I was absolutely calling myself out with that segment.

Vlad’s desk might contain centuries of unfinished projections and fluctuating hyperfixations but I’ve probably got him beat 🤣