Can We All Agree Not To Be Weird When Nico Di’Angelo’s Actor Gets Announced? If The Show Stays True

This is one of said poems. Written in a week-long writing class for the prompt 'what I want my words to do to you' have read it to a crowd twice, both times at least one person cried. Could also be my naturally sad yelpy tone though idk.

Somehow almost all my poems make people cry. So either I'm:

One: a bad poet but my stories are sad enough that I can make people cry through bad poetry

Two: a good poet with stories that are just kinda sad but can be manipulated with words into beautiful poems that make people cry

Three: a good poet with sad stories that are enhanced through poetry to make people cry

Or four: a bad poet with stories that aren't sad and people are just crying because they feel bad that I'd choose to read them bad poetry

Either way, every time I read a poem to an audience, it seems like at least one person will cry or tell me they almost cried and had to actively hold themselves back.

Don't know exactly what to make of this. My poems are usually about my bad life experiences though, so I guess that probably plays a role.

happy neil banging out the tunes day to everyone who celebrates

I decided to write a bit about learning disabilities and my opinions on how they are handled in schools. I handwrote it as a demonstration of how my dysgraphia still affects my writing, but I also typed up a translation for anyone who might have trouble reading that.

Percy got one minotaur horn when he was twelve and another two when he was 15, he should ditch the sword and make a trident out of them. Imagine the flex

The Beast, as they say, is Love. Good Morning.

Within one day of getting a fitness watch, it has:

1. Called me out on my sleeping habits

2. Shown how I barely move all day

3. Buzzed multiple times because my heart rate got up to like, 160.

I imagine there will be more things to come from this.

Things they never mention when you cut off someone as a middle schooler:

Sometimes, it can take years to realize how bad things were.

You start out thinking that you just didn't click. Then you begin thinking of it as toxic. Then you start realizing it was manipulative. Then after 3 years, you can finally see it for what it was. You were being abused. It was an abusive relationship.

But you can't go around and say that. After all, you were both 13 and you didn't even date or anything. You were just friends. And sure he was bad to you, but didn't you mess up a bit too?

People tend to make their assumptions and tune out the rest of the story once you bring up that it was in seventh grade.

Meanwhile every time you have to see him in class, you die inside a little more. He makes eye contact with you once and you're in a state of panic for the rest of the week. You're scared that one day he's going to try and do something else- get revenge on you for rebelling against his control and refusing to be his little puppy anymore.

You walk the halls in terror. He could be anywhere, any time, ready to get back at you. He's tested the waters and learned how badly you fear him. He seems to take joy in that.

All your friends swear they would protect you, but you know they wouldn't be able to intervene quick enough to avoid any damage being done- mental or physical. You know that he's still stronger and more set in his views. He wouldn't lose any fight against you, it doesn't matter if he chooses words or fists.

You live in fear. Some don't believe you, others don't fully understand. Some swear to protect you, others seem to think you would deserve it. But no matter what, the only thing you know for sure is that if something happens, you are completely, and utterly, fucked.

My brain is fried and I didn't register that the photo was being taken at an angle so my first thought was just 'damn that cat's massive. Must be photoshopped'