My Body Is Already An Inhospitable Environment, There’s No Way A Friggin Baby Would Be Able To Survive

thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.

My fucking cat has figured out how to gently dig his claws into my eyelid and pull my eyes open while I'm sleeping. He does this. It does not hurt. He is remarkably precise and gentle. I however am asleep when it happens and do not appreciate being clockwork oranged by a needy clingy goddamn animal who thinks he needs attention.

*guy who has repressed every feeling he's ever had* yeah I'm just really good at rolling with the punches I guess haha

i could never be hannibal lecter because i hate lying theyd be like and whats for dinner hannibal and id be like it's beef SORRRYYYYY its actually a guy who i killed and cooked up 😬 are you mad at meee and theyd say no hannibal you told the truth and thats what matters and then we'd all hug

you know what fuck it, I love you historical spelling. I love you weird fossilised preservations of obsolete alphabets, grasping for something that exists now like mist, like liquid, its true pronunciation lost to time but not quite forgotten, not yet. a ghost remains, a friendly one, comfortable in this old house. I love you repurposed letters for phonemes that neither the old language nor the variety they were borrowed into has any need for anymore. I love you sensible vowel pairings that have grown - improbably - centuries later, into unwieldy diphthongs, quietly thriving in an ever-shifting environment like weeds nestled cosily beneath the shade of grander plants that have long since turned to mulch. I love the word 'diphthong' (the little thicket of consonants in the middle of it, sprouting up from nowhere to trouble tongue and penmanship alike). I love how Phoenician fingerprints remain in a Norman revision of an Anglo-Saxon reworking of a Roman borrowing of a Greek repurposing, all these shapes and signs moulded again and again like clay, like mud, spun like flax to carry all those lovely glides and nasals and obstruents which come and go and come and go over time as the sounds mutate and grow apart, and the people grow and age and die, leaving behind nothing except (sometimes) a page. a poem. a piece of themselves, their voice, rendered in imperfect beautiful scratchings whose contours match the ceaseless flow of time, heavy with all that history and somehow also light with the sheer urgency of being written. look at it, isn't it wonderful? this moment in time that holds within it yet other moments? other echoes calling down through the centuries? this is how we spoke, this is what we sounded like, once. this is how we thought our ancestors would have said it. I love the inconvenience. English is so hard to learn. the spelling is so illogical. so cumbersome. it's frustrating. it makes no sense. it's inconvenient. yes and yes and yes, and yet you too are inconvenient, you too are inchoate and too much and you fail to resolve into a neat and comprehensible order. but look at you. how lovely you are. I treasure you. why should the words you speak be any less lovely.

"oh sorry, i guess i was infodumping again" - sad, shy, apologetic

"you sly dog, you got me monologuing" - cool, strong, confident

yknow i kind of forget sometimes that like. pregnancy is innately tied to sexual stuff. like "haha hey guess what. gets you pregnant" is actually kind of. a horny thing to say in fact.

one time i fell asleep with a half eaten bag of chips on my chest and while i was napping one of my cats jumped up on me and chewed up the bag and sent the chips flying everywhere and a bit later i woke up completely covered in shredded bag and chip pieces and the last thing i remembered i had started eating some tasty chips so for a short while i was convinced i had blacked out and gone into some sort of uncontrollable chip frenzy

Sex is cringe. "Hey do you wanna come over and play boners together?" What naked bullshit. They have played us for fools.

Tip: you can microwave stale croissant for 15-20 seconds and it will become soft and warm and nice. Cut it open, put butter in it. Peace and love