To Be A Submarine
To be a submarine
I often wonder what life would be like if a different choice was taken. Whole universes resting on left or right, effort or slack, grace or ignorance. It is an often enough thought that people have - brighter bulbs have puffed their pollen upon the winds of the universe on this exercise. In my illness, it is a daily one. I used to live in Indiana. I moved there for love and was courageous enough to find it twice. I say courageous because I do not believe in luck. You have to make your own luck in this world; granted some folk are graced with coincidence and random generosity - happy little accidents in the evolutionary algorithm. Luck is putting yourself in the right place, and working to find the perfect opportunity. I often wonder that too - if it was love that my partners saw or opportunity. Indiana saw me pressed to the edge - broke, desperate, hungry, heartbroken. Still I thrived and made things work. I too had broken down, had bared my soul, had looked into the abyss that dwells within every heart - still I rode with chin high and eyes clear. The knife’s edge that forms the barrier between our worlds is that I chose. I chose to hollow myself out in that personal hell. I was a robot, surviving any pressure simply because I was not allowed to feel it. I could not think, nor thrive, but I could survive. Now I eye warily the seemingly countless gauges, diving deeper to examine every shipwreck and artifact commissioned to the sea. Sweat beads as my mind creaks and wails; still the hands hold course. I wonder if it would be wiser to send unfeeling metal to discover. Or if the bravery of venturing into uncharted waters is the point.
More Posts from Notofhuman-sense-norofhuman-mind and Others
Sometimes
Sometimes I wish I listened to my
Heart
Drive till I can’t see anymore
Break into abandoned factories
All while making molotov cocktails in a car that
Doesn’t exist
Only companion
Is the guilt that meows
Softly from behind dirty glasses
Telling me that I could have saved the world.
How can a person save anything
If the only thing they want to do
Is for their dead heart to Beat?
Here’s HSTHETE, the 24 hour comic I drew this year! Thanks to everybody who followed along on twitter this weekend as I posted these pages <3
oh to be a nun in 1350 enjoying quiet time and gardening and having lots of lesbian sex and then dying at the ripe old age of 36
reblog to give a lesbian a sword, a bi girl a dagger, and a trans girl a cool gun
This is truly amazing, thank you.
Hey i’m a fashion design student so i have tons and tons of pdfs and docs with basic sewing techniques, pattern how-tos, and resources for fabric and trims. I’ve compiled it all into a shareable folder for anyone who wants to look into sewing and making their own clothing. I’ll be adding to this folder whenever i come across new resources
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/16uhmMb8kE4P_vOSycr6XSa9zpmDijZSd?usp=sharing
The good news: Soulmates are real.
The bad news: Reincarnation is also real, and the vast majority of souls on Earth are not presently incarnated as humans. If you are a living human, statistically your soulmate is currently some sort of beetle, or possibly a small salt-water crustacean.
oops! it seems i tripped and dropped several million free books, papers, and other resources
https://annas-archive.org
https://sci-hub.se
https://z-lib.is
https://libgen.is
https://libgen.rs
https://www.pdfdrive.com
https://library.memoryoftheworld.org
https://monoskop.org/Monoskop
https://libcom.org
https://libretexts.org
http://classics.mit.edu
https://librivox.org
https://standardebooks.org
https://www.gutenberg.org
https://core.ac.uk
These look eerily similar to my recent dreams.
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Amelia from the year 1991 (33). A person working to find their self love again.
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