for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
~ francis bacon
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Joined a friendo in doing an online module class situation for medieval calligraphy because he was sitting next to me at the table and demanded I get in on the action. I was explaining the intricacies and foibles of calligraphing as a leftie, but sometimes when a delightful human keeps thrusting a goose quill pen at you and insisting you have a good time, you just relent and do it.
And when you finish your janky alphabet practice and they tell you, "Now make something silly!" Well... you remember that they are the reason you were able to watch Theeeee Karate Kid Part 3 and meet Terry Roundhouse Caperscheme Silver. And you remind THEM that Cobra Kai never dies.
(It had exactly the desired effect of eliciting ebullient, near-falling laughter. Crane-kicked their heart right in the face with friendship. Point: me. 😂🏆😁🥰)
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Look Away
Jeez, I know this will hit close to home, and that it must be so hard to see these unbroken bones, unbent back, unswayed and rooted stance, unflinching morals in the face of oppression, but don't you ever look away? Look away. ...look away. I hear that you're breathing down my back when I'm not around, and there's whispers of how you regret things, but creeping on someone's poetry blog for the tiniest glimpse of the light you ran from, the light you praised so loudly and miss so terribly but would snuff out so easily if given the chance, isn't attractive. It isn't alluring, it's an Unwanted mess.
And I learned so much about you when you dropped me like scalding hot frybread at IICOT just before competition, running to look good for others and not show your true colors, gotta preen for the cameras, click! Click! Click! Don't click on my page, you've been blocked and I'm gone. That's what you wanted when I was too bright for you anyway, wasn't it? Is that why your morals are so shady?
Mediation was always your strong suit, you claimed so publicly and proudly, sitting at tables with people who wanted all of us, all our communities - even you - dead. Yet you couldn't even handle communicating honestly because the money was too good to listen to truth. All cash registers and paychecks, cha-ching! If someone isn't that or white, they're useless to you. And yet..
Even now, though, you hover just out of view. You check. You look. You click. You can't help it, can't help wondering what you lost after trying to get a foot in the door with me anyway, and sharing such intimate confessions - confessions you begged not to be shared with others - trying to lovebomb and get a snag, so desperate for attention and affirmation in any form. You must feel...Starved. In shambles. Shaken to your core that your truth is known (don't worry, it's not outed 🙄).
Seen, in every way you don't want to be. I'd say selfish for wanting light that's not yours, but you've never known what selfish is have you? Only because you won't acknowledge that's what you are. Instead, I'd argue you're Scared, with a capital S. Running, in fact. For your life. So terrified of your own shadow, of any light reflecting off yours and showing the ugly truth of who you are.
Messy. Messy messy messy.
Harrowing, is how I'd describe dealing with you now that I know the truth. Sightings of you are so sad, because you're still dancing for them. How truly saddening. It's okay, though..I know truth isn't for everyone.
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like sexual violence is a pretty big part of ghosts life that he struggles with and i think working w that is so important. he was forced to laugh at a woman his dad killed in a sex for drugs interaction, he was sexually assaulted, and he had sex like. teased as a reward for fighting his fellow squad members. imo he swaps between being hypersexual and sex making him catatonic it just depends on how/if hes been triggered.
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2023 is coming to an end so this is my annual I love my online friends so fucking much you wouldn't believe me if I told you post.
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