Latest Posts by pisforpandemonium - Page 2

“Blood may be thicker than water, but shared community and experience are thicker than both” – Alice Austen Lived Here, Alex Gino.

In this world, we keep hearing how important it is to function as a society. We create arbitrary norms about relationships, marriage and gender, and thrust people onto a stage where their true selves can never be exposed - where they have to live a performance. Ironically, it those who perform their lives, their identity, that truly live – queer people, living loudly, who thrive as a community. From lived experience – however short that may be – I have witnessed connections bloom in under seconds between queer people in a way I have never between cishet people; mutual aid, a no-questions-asked kind of support, a sense of belonging, of security, of authenticity pervades queer gatherings and relationships.

As discussions arose about amatonormativity and relationship anarchy, I came to a startling realization that amatonormativity, however ingrained, dominates cishet circles very differently from how it exists in queer spaces. To be queer is to be a part of something much larger than you; it is to find kindred spirits in people ten years younger and twenty-five years older than us; it is to know that I am we, and we are one; it is to be tethered to people who lived a century ago who never used the words we do now, but lived our existences; it is to understand that who we are don’t start or end with us – we are from a long line of survivors who fought to be seen, to be heard, and thus, as a patient tells April Kepner on Grey’s Anatomy, it is our duty to practice ‘tikkun olam’, to endeavor to put together the rest of this broken world for our fellow baby queers. In the end, what it means for individuals is that our community makes us stronger, prouder.

And because of this, while monogamous romantic/+sexual relationships are placed at the top of a hierarchy even amongst queer people, it is not as much a fixed triangle as cishet relationships of the same type are. Because being queer is about finding our non-biological family; and the people we choose on our journey to be our people inspire our identity, shape our life, and establish bonds which cannot be unglued. Friendships between queer people transcend false beliefs about platonic relationships. Because of a long history of disownment, estrangement, and exclusion from biological relations and peers, queer communities are a family in their own right. As we see in Anne With An E, You Me Her, Glee, and so, so many other shows, queer people need other queer people – not just for emotional support, but to know where we come from, to belong, to learn, and to know what could be.

Unfortunately, amatonormativity does persist in monogamous, polyamorous, queer and cishet relationships – and it can only be destroyed with reclaiming our autonomy, destroying long-held beliefs, banning the institution of marriage (just kidding… maybe), and the rise of community. Fortunately, this baby has started walking beautifully (was that an intentional wordplay on ‘baby steps’? Yes, yes it was. Mighty proud of it, I am); all we now need is a village to nurture this baby.

-kpm

Ace/aro books coming out this year that I’m looking forward to!

Is Love the Answer by Uta Isaki - stand-alone manga about a college girl who discovers she is aroace. The same mangaka also did ‘Mine-kun is Asexual’ a couple of years ago which I liked, though it was much shorter, so I’m happy to see a full length release from them. This came out just last week, so I’m super excited to read it when it gets here!

I want to be a wall (Vol.2) by Honami Shirono - manga series - releasing 17th Jan. I already posted about how much I enjoyed Vol 1 of this series, but for recap it’s about an aroace woman and her lavender marriage to a gay man who is unrequitedly in love with his best friend. I’m really excited to see how their non-conventional relationship plays out :) it’s very slice of life and cozy!

I am Ace by Cody Daigle-Orians aka Ace Dad Advice - releasing 21 Feb 2023. I’m glad to see a book about a sexuality actually written for an ace audience, because I feel like a lot of aspec books/articles are aimed at raising awareness with allos. I’m excited to see how this one goes!

Sounds Fake But Okay: An Asexual and Aromantic Perspective on Love, Relationships, Sex, and Pretty Much Anything Else - by Kayla Kaszyca and Sarah Costello - releasing 21 Feb 2023. I’ve listened to their podcast a bit over the years and I’m curious to see what they come up with in this book!

If you want to see a fuller list of all the ace and aro books coming out this year, check out this list HERE!

zlibrary gone... FUCK TIKTOK FUCK BOOKTOK I hope that app burns in hell

reasons to live-

The last few seasons of Grey's Anatomy

The stack of unread books at home

Yet to write love letters to all my best friends

Diana and Kuttus and kitties

Haven't got enough of eating certain food items

People in my life

Boating

Bianelle

Louis releasing COACOAC and Change

Reading COAGDP again

.

Things to talk to my therapist about :

1. What Achan said sh

2. After movie night - crying episode (what Annu said) sh

3. What Ammi said sh

The depression™

I think more than jealousy, the emotion i feel when my parents tease me when they say they have 4 daughters including my cousins is something close to fear? Because then truly if I were to die , then they would also have others . Other important people. And they wouldn't feel an absence as such .

The in-between part of depression is the worst. Where you can feel the anti-depressants working, you can feel yourself getting better - but then can you claim to have depression anymore? What if someone accuses you of faking it? What if someone expects too much, but you're not there yet, but they don't get it because they see you're better? What if your body want to sleep all the time but your mind is learning to wake itself up? What then?

The day I learnt how to check my pulse, I felt like I was holding my life in my own hand. It took me a long time to find that accurate spot, but once I did, I just couldn't understand how people refrained from checking their pulse all the time. It was evidence that I was alive, that no matter how I felt inside, my body was alive, that it was kicking, and it felt nothing short of a miracle. There seemed to be a certain kind of beauty in having the ability to feel my own heartbeat, in having a part of my heart extending to my wrist - so much so that it took my breath away, made it skip a beat.

I think I understand it better now - why people advise us against wearing our heart on our sleeve. When that very heart on our sleeve is an indication of our existence; when that very heart on our sleeve is the indication of whether we are living; when that pulse we feel is proof of survival - baring that to danger, to vulnerability, to scrutiny, may very well be an invitation to pain, to death. It is a direct route to our softest spot, an easy access to our precious safe. Who in their right mind would make themselves defenceless to threat of exposure?

After all, Achilles never went around flaunting his heel.

Reasons why Grey's Anatomy is the best f*cking show ever:

(I've only reached S13, so no spoilers plis.but spoiler alert for those who haven't reached there - no major ones, but still)

1. The people. What is amatonormativity . It does not exist. All the relationships portrayed in the show - be it professional, familial, platonic, romantic; every single connection is meaningful and wholesome. MEREDITH AND CHRISTINA's relationship is what I yearn for, it is EVERYTHING. Alex and Meredith has my heart. Izzie and George (before the drama). George and Meredith. Derek and Christina's. Derek and Mark's - Mark saying he came back for Derek. Jackson and Mark's relationship. Teddy and Christina's. Mark, Arizona and Callie's relationship. Arizona and Alex's relationship. Addison and Alex's. Webber and Bailey's relationship. And these are only a select few I'm naming off the top of my head. There is genuine remorse when a friend hurts a friend, romantic partners aren't placed on a pedestal. Meredith does not kick her friends out of the house even after she gets married. Her found family doesn't disappear/isn't suddenly unimportant just because she's found romantic love.

And even the romantic relationships are so organic, so realistic. Even if there's drama, it's not toxic drama. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE how much importance is given to building relationships, to putting in effort.

And the stories of certain patients - the two women who decide to have and raise babies together. The two best friends, "cradle to the grave". The old couple, where the husband is helping the ill wife find a girlfriend for her new boyfriend. Another pair of best friends, making a deal to have a child together if they're single at 40.

Most connections exist for a reason. No one is disposable. Even the ones who leave are remembered, they don't disappear from the minds of their loved ones, unlike in most books/media. People actually value those they connect with. Even break-ups, deaths, endings, are all portrayed with the gravity they deserve.

I could go on and on about this, but I'll stop myself here. Also I might've accidentally left out certain points because one- my memory sucks, and also because I've come this far (show-wise I mean, not in life, HAHA, jk).

2. The casual queer representation. They have done it PERFECTLY. Everything about the queer rep in the show - *chef's kiss*

The only issue I had with the show was how they dealt with sex. How the concept of not having sex, or having sex much later in life etc was treated as a joke. Also, certain things Callie said didn't sit well with me at all.

But otherwise, I loved how they showed different generations, different kinds of queer people and relationships. Trans people, intersex people. People with bodies which don't fit into the norm. Queer sexuality. Just lovely.

3. How mental health issues are treated. AND HOW DISABILITY IS PORTRAYED. Keeping aside all the "jokes" or certain terms used, when it actually came down to it? The show portrayed mental illness wonderfully. Be it depression, be it addiction, be it OCD,(though this one was pretty insensitive at times - but that's not on the show, that's on the characters), be it PTSD (superbly realistically portrayed), be it schizophrenia. The way Arizona being disabled was portrayed; the episodes with the veterans; April saying being deaf needn't be a weakness or something "to fix"; that a person doesn't need their disability to be "cured" to become whole. How different bodies are portrayed - demonization of bodies is criticized, it's never encouraged.

The way Alex treated people with mental illnesses, the way he spoke about them (looking past the crude language, looking at him as an individual), is how it should be. One of the scenes I hold close to my heart is the way he explained to Jackson why, and how it was unfair to judge the actions of a patient while healing them or speaking to their family (more on this in the next point).

While this isn't connected to mental illness, and I'm requesting y'all not to misunderstand, I'm including this under this point because it's related to mental health - I love love love how Mark and Jackson ensure that the reason why people are getting plastic surgery is for themselves, not for anybody else. I love how there's no shaming, how it isn't shown as a shallow, vain field.

4. Not a single character is solely a good person, or a bad person. Everyone is multidimensional. Everyone has a story. Everyone is - pun intended - grey. They've all said or done something problematic, questionable or just wrong; but these same people show growth, they evolve. They also do things which show loyalty, compassion, and strength. There is nobody I actually, deeply dislike because they are an amalgamation of shades, I cannot fully dislike or put on a pedestal anyone in the show because they're written as complex, multifaceted beings. They're written as human. Which not many writers can do, it's an incredibly difficult, and at the same time, a beautiful thing to achieve.

Even people who did commit actual crimes weren't portrayed as evil criminals. They were shown to be as human as anyone. Their actions weren't excused, they weren't given a free pass, but they were still portrayed as people, instead of irredeemable monsters.

5. Feminismmmmmmm. Just scattered throughout the show like yummy sprinkles. I loved how characters actually speak about race, and racism. Very socially aware.

Mistreatment and dismissive treatment by professionals is a relevant issue that is portrayed throughout the show. The way consent was handled - so important!

Okay ,my brain feels wrung-out, so I'll stop here. I might edit this to add more points or write a pt. 2. The reasons why I love this show is inexhaustible, endless. And I'm sure I'll find more to love as I keep watching.

I was fourteen when I first read 50 Shades of Grey, or as Catherine Scott puts it — that book. What I appreciate most about it is not the spank-bank material it gave me, but the world it introduced me to; the hole that took me to my own wonderland. As my kink journey - in theory, mind you - progressed, I discovered aspects of myself I don’t think even therapy would’ve helped me access; the way I needed to be loved, the way I needed to be taken care of, the way I needed to feel small to grow, the way I needed to give myself over to reclaim autonomy.

Kink took me to regression, regression to self-awareness, and self-awareness to a yearning I sometimes cannot contain inside my body because of how large and all-consuming it is, how much space it occupies, and how it swallows me whole, especially on my worse days.

The question “how could non-sexual kink possibly be therapeutic?” has many, many answers; it is the hope I get when I imagine how I would no longer have to be responsible for myself; the relief I feel, knowing that someone wants the best for me, and letting them take over my entire being would help keep me alive; the knowledge that even though I am capable of taking care of myself, it is too much of a burden, too much of a leach sucking my battery, and so I choose to give it away, pass it over.

Someone who would squeeze my thigh, and tap it twice to indicate I need to lower my voice in public spaces, instead of an explicit “reduce your volume”, inadvertently triggering my rejection sensitivity dysphoria; someone who would wrap me up in a blanket and make me tea, cuddling me, crushing my body, until I come back from an episode; someone to make sure I can do the things I want to do, that inhibition due to my executive dysfunction wouldn’t make me a completely useless person; someone whose idea of what is best for me is my idea of what’s best for me; someone who would take care of me, when it hurts too much to take care of myself; someone I trust enough to kneel in front of because I feel shame choking me when I imagine myself submitting to anyone else; someone who chooses to stay; someone I can be a child with without fear of annoyance or judgement; someone I can be awkward with, weird with, loud with; someone whose rationality never hinders or limits their emotionality; someone to give me a healthy alternative to the unsafe pain my coping mechanism provides; someone to provide the sensation of hurt without causing me harm; someone whom I feel safe with even while constrained, blindfolded, all senses switched off; someone to gently squeeze my neck when my thoughts are too loud; someone to take over conversations when I face a sudden bout of energy loss; someone whose energy is dominating, all-encompassing; someone who would be my advocate, my shield, and sword; someone gentle, someone soft, someone who would never let me give up on myself.

Regression ≠ kink, for myself.

-kpm ©

I don't feel like touching anyone or being touched today (it's just like that sometimes), and it's a nonverbal day today, which means it takes so so much energy to talk and I really don't want to; but my cousin just told me she has "a lot of things to tell you!" and she's touchy-feely and I'm dreading this so fucking much but I don't know what to say to her because -

1. She's a kid

2. She gets upset very easily

And fuck, I just want to be alone

The first time I read Ursula Le Guin’s The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, my chest constricted with the passionate onslaught of too many thoughts, too many emotions, too many opinions. No matter how many perspectives I could logically think from, my brain circled back to the outcry of why no one spoke up, why no one resisted, revolted. How strong could be the ones who walked away? After all, walking away is the easiest thing one could do. It didn’t take much for me to unlearn that; just Louis’ outburst of leaving being the hardest thing to do, as he says so in COAGDP, was all it took. And when I tried that angle, I understood. I understood what Le Guin was trying to convey, what she wanted to make us see. It was a statement; it was saying: “this world was built for me. This suffering is meant for my happiness. This is all I’m aware of. I choose to not be happy. I would rather leave to a place I know nothing about, a place I don’t even know exists, than be happy at the cost of a child, of someone being collateral damage, for my happiness. If this torture is for me, for my sake, I would rather live a miserable life in the unknown.” It was not just brave, it was revolutionary.

Staying there, fighting for change, would lead to: “do you want us all to suffer just because of your selfish ideology?” / “do you want our lives to collapse just to save one child?” / “does this strange child mean more to you than your loved ones’ happiness?”. The age-old argument of collective good versus the wellbeing of an individual is one with an answer that’s a double-edged sword. There is no end, no solution; strength comes in many forms, many faces, and sometimes turning your back on all you’ve known your entire life is the strongest thing one can do to make a point.  

We see this in all the people who’re the black sheep of their family; the leftist, the feminist, the divorcee, the queer one, the atheist and the agnostic, the free-thinkers, the child rebels, the child who questions; we don’t see much of them, because they’re forced to hide underneath cloaks saying something different – “anti-national”, “violator of culture, of family values”, “the reject”, “the one with conduct issues”, “the heathen”.

Walking away is many a time metaphorical, and it doesn’t always mean the same thing; but when one has lived their whole life as a frog in a well, jumping out isn’t escapism, it is resistance.

-kpm

cw : mention of death/s*icidal ideation; original content, based on prompt idea by @writingprompts365

::::::

Sunshine meant people; sunshine meant people, chatter, and moving about, forced to be a functional human being who had to survive in proper society. They hated how looking after their beloved pet had been turned into a chore by their family, how helping around seemed more like being ordered around; the injustice of never having a moment of peace and quiet, never having a moment of respite to themselves, the dread of having to be extraverted when the only thing they wanted to do was learn and write and read and goddamnit- be alone. But moonlight. Moonlight meant everything holy, precious, and hopeful. It meant dancing in the living room, eating cold chicken, listening to music on full blast, infinite creativity. Alas, nights were too short to fit one’s entire life into. Sleep was for the strong – for the ones who could manage time and socialization, for those who could live with people, for those who didn’t fall apart when denied solace in their own arms. They were weak, they did not sleep; if days were for existing, and nights were for living, had they not dreamed of dying for far too long to deserve to want to live?  

A character knows they should go to sleep but they purposefully do something else instead

I make homes of places. I make homes of cafes with soft lightning, reading nooks, and faceless people. I make homes of the narrow, empty corridors in second-hand book shops housing hardcovers with creases. I make homes of strangers sitting opposite to me on the over-night train going home, talking about travel and the story behind Don’t Stop Believing. I make homes of all the terraces I walk on, indentations of my feet on once empty spaces.

I don’t like it. I don’t like that when I leave, parts of myself are left behind. I don’t like that my mind hangs on to the feeling of nostalgia the way moss covers trees. I don’t like that my attachments are fleeting. I don’t like that I cannot put down my roots anywhere because change is the only thing that is permanent, and trees can’t move, they just keep shaking. I don’t like that I remember feelings. I don’t like things that are intangible. I don’t like what I cannot see, because people don’t believe you when you say you see shadows of things that aren’t touchable, hear music that isn’t recordable.

I want to be a palm tree. I want to live on a beach. I want to be so sturdy; the sands of time won’t change me. I want to settle down so deep, storms and waves won’t move me. I want to be a tree house, my own home, made of myself, made of my blood and skin and bones, so that from people, places and paroxysms of nostalgia I remain free. I want to stop leaving pieces of myself like breadcrumbs for heartbreak; I want to start collecting what I have already lost, the way the sea reclaims shells, the way birds return to their trees. I want to be whole again, but I am simply living kintsugi.

  -kpm ©

aro musings

Since childhood, I’ve been repeatedly told that blood relationships trump bonds by choice, since the former’s permanence can never be debated, never be challenged. It took me some time to realize what exactly was meant by that: bonds made by choice can as easily be broken by choice, and that the sole security offered by blood is the simple fact that you cannot transfuse your entire blood stream. That was an epiphany, because it meant despite the one million EXIT doors all around us, the people I’d chosen had chosen me back; but it also meant the people I share blood with don’t have a single EXIT door to truly make their love for me, a love on purpose.

I don’t want permanence if it’s by obligation; I don’t want people standing beside me through dark and stormy skies if it’s the cement on their feet holding them there. I would rather have loved ones who are windborne, who have the choice to fly and see the sky, but stop and land for me from time to time even when the sky is clear and blue and perfect. I’ve read about families by choice, but it wasn’t until I saw four women in a polyamorous relationship co-parenting adopted babies that a semblance of hope for my own future was restored. I do not wish to be ensnared by romance or monogamy or any hierarchical relationship; I want what people dream of: a queer couple to adopt them so they wouldn’t feel alone; I want what people have: a best friend to co-parent each other’s pets with; I want what people don’t see: a family of friends.

-kpm ©

[tbc]

mesh

I want the kind of love shared by Christina Yang and Meredith Grey; the kind of love shared by friends who’re soulmates; the kind of love where I will never feel like an outsider in my own relationship, no matter what kind it may be; the kind of love where no matter what stupid shit I spout, I will be met with fond exasperation and never scorn or judgement; I want the kind of love where anything problematic I say or do will be received with grace, a space for remorse, and reparation; the kind of love where my quiet, empty days will be accepted, and my boisterous ones appreciated; the kind of love with whom I can get drunk as fuck with without hesitation; the kind of love I feel safe sleeping on their shoulder with; the kind of love for whom I wouldn’t regret giving my all and more to; the kind of love who understands which love language I need to be communicated with on what day; the kind of love where there are no blips in communication; the kind of love where there is no fear of being too much or not enough; the kind of love where I feel I am the exact right amount of me; the kind of love who won’t attach sexual overtones to physical intimacy; the kind of love where my mind immediately hollers their name when I muse about whom to share my writings with because it knows they’d want to read it; the kind of love where we both feel safe and secure showing our most rotten parts to; the kind of love where we both feel safe and secure showing our best parts to; the kind of love that is not romantic and not platonic and not sexual; the kind of love where I can regress when I feel soft; the kind of love where I can rage when I feel small; the kind of love where you choose each other, where you stay decisively, love purposefully; the kind of love you are at home in.

 [p.s- wanting ≠ lacking]

 -kpm ©

songs and their stories

Did you feel the way I did, when Leith Ross said, ‘oh, what a wonderful feeling, to own and operate your life; oh, what a terrible burden, all my decisions are mine’? Like an eighteen year old child, a twenty one year old toddler; forever young; like a duckling imprinting on the first person it sees; like a sea turtle – just knowing your home is the sea, knowing you’ll be hunted the moment you break free; like wandering into a brand new city, like learning how to swim for the first time – a sudden shove, a lightning fast pull, static; like the taste of freedom, once sweet, turning into ash the more you realize accountability is yours, and yours only; like the world is too big, and at your feet; like a carousal – the feeling of wind rushing making you want to spin spin spin spin- ignoring the nausea rising; like wanting to dance in the rain, but unwilling to leave the warmth of the hearth keeping you cozy.  

Did it make you think the way it made me, when James Bay said, ‘tell me how to be in this world; tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt; tell me how could I believe in something’, and John Legend said, ‘I try to do the things, I say that I believe’? Like swimming upstream; like rolling the stone till you reach the peak, only to meet another hill; like wanting to change the world one droplet at a time, knowing life is too short for you see it become an ocean; like having faith in the flutter of tiny wings, if the butterfly effect is simply a myth, your existence would lose all meaning; like you’re watching the world from the sofa, popcorn shamefully at your feet when you need a break from the bloody, gory documentary; like knowing too much, wishing you were little; like a throat sore from screaming, hoping you could make someone else see; like falling falling falling, not knowing if there is an upwards from the rock bottom beneath your feet; like breathing in icy cold air, existence akin to slow ruin; like the sweat from holding onto someone’s hand for far too long - clammy, icky, safety.

 -kpm ©

something I'm proud of myself for : I have learned to ask for the things I need. A person to sit with when I study. Words of support when I'm freaking out over public speaking. Words of reassurance when I feel alone. Without shame, without guilt, without self criticism. and that's something.

I feel like I'm a bad feminist, a fake feminist because my family doesn't let me wear the clothes I want while going out from home. I have to either fucking ask for permission or have a huge ass argument just to wear what i want and I feel like I d o nt have control over my own body that I'm not the owner of my own body that I'm 2 fucking 1 years old and I still have to deal with this shit and I want to cry and scream and punch something

Kristy is aroace. No I'm not taking any arguments.

what I genuinely CANNOT comprehend is how adults find it remotely acceptable to use the "I'm the earning member" / "I pay the rent" / "this is my house" argument towards children and actively encourage it but when used towards a non earning spouse it's acknowledged as being abusive? So you admit that you don't see your children as autonomous individuals with basic human rights?

"you can't wear that in my house. you can become an earning member and buy a house and do whatever you want there" directed towards a child is okay but directed towards, for example, a homemaker wife, is abuse? make it make sense how the former ISN'T?

Why tf does someone need to be over 18 to have basic body autonomy? Why tf does a person need to be an earning member to be considered as a person having inherent worth/dignity/for their word to be taken into consideration (at the very least)?

I have witnessed leftists who believe in prisoners rights justifying spanking and I don't understand. If you can understand that people in power hitting incarcerated people to "correct" them is a violation of human rights and an abuse of authority, how do you not understand the same logic when it comes to parents and children?

People who complain about power and abuse of power rarely acknowledge one of the most primary forms of abuse of power - against children. And that's just hypocrisy at its finest.

things allies can do this pride month to show their support instead of just "happy pride" posts/messages :

casually mention queer stuff around children instead of censoring it.

make your language more inclusive.

stop perpetuating gender essentialism. especially when it comes to periods, sex and so on (eg. "things only women will understand about periods" / "all men are sexual, it's in their nature" etcetc are huge ass no no's).

normalise asexuality and aromanticism - stop placing so much emphasis on "finding the perfect partner", toxic monogamy culture, placing romantic relationships highest on a relationship hierarchy, making sex out to be a "natural need" that no human can resist etcetc.

watch media/read books or works/listen to music featuring queer characters or by queer people.

spread awareness and call in people when you witness them being queerphobic, exclusionary or ignorant; yes, even your family.

support queer activism and activists.

if women's day is more than just "appreciate and respect your sister/mother/daughter", pride month is more than just acceptance for a few loved ones who're queer (however important that may be).

this pride month, let's make an effort to casually mention queer stuff around children instead of censoring it

that bpd moment when you've been in an emotionally drained mood™ for a while and a small thing finally tips you over, and everyone things the latter is the reason you're having an emotional meltdown/breakdown and you don't know how to explain that it's cause of your hellfuck disorder not just that petty thing

It's all support people with ADHD until they-- act "irresponsibly", ask for "special treatment", exhibit "difficult" symptoms.

It's all support people with BPD until they--act "immature", are "too sensitive", "unnecessarily emotional"

And so much more that I don't have the energy to list.

Fuck this shit.

S*icide "joke" / "not joke" -

People : Mental health and mental illness and ND awareness blah blah blah

People : Suicide is not the answer

Also people : How are you going to survive in this world if *lists and complains about various symptoms neurodivergent people/pw mental illnesses have* [hence - suicidal ideation. like??????? the math is so simple?????? which part do you not get?????]

Also people : We can't give you concessions cause we're all going through tough times and it would be unfair, so suck it up

||

If you want ND people and pw mental illnesses to live, then make the world a livable place for us. suicide is not the answer, I absolutely agree. but neither is enforcing norms and standards which are exclusionary and HARMFUL in nature and on top of that not giving concessions or being understanding. you can't have both.

once again,

the same nothingness, a dark spell

the same shut door, the same loud noise

"don't leave me" cried the moon to the light

-slip the door shut, mute the voice.

once again,

the cavity stretched open

the heart became a helium balloon and incredulous laughter choked the moon

what is sanity

why isn't it for me

wonder till eternity

I don't know what I'm doing

I know I'm lonely

I know it's back

But the moon isn't here

Neither is the light

Once again,

I'm alone and holding tight

© eventhough it sucks ass ©

I'm collecting mental illnesses like people collect Pokémon 🤡

I'm just so angry s so so angry and I don't know what to do with myself