YOU LEAKED

i’m crying this is so funny

quivering in anticipation however on second thought, retain your pure elfboy neet charm, stay safe and don’t get corrupted by the real world

“platonically cuddle” sez u

emily hahahahaha 😭

omg you literally don’t even know the lore this is so funny keep going

okay well you’re definitely a protag i’m just manifesting ur visit to the US which is your cameo

Well, to a feminist such as myself, not so much, and I've spoken with you enough on Bsky to only think, "You need therapy, not this short-lived mentality."

more like season 2 collab cameo

season 1 rival is crazy 😭

wait yea absolutely go for it, it’s super funny lol

Transgender is like Ferrari… I like Ferrari

i went through way too much effort to 100% this game

nietzsche on the pathos of distance

the getquakedon shitting pants clip is only funny if you hate disabled people

as in, if my actions are given any sort of attention and treated with even a modicum of significance, they are seen to be terrible, in the least extraordinary way. even call them “my actions” is a misnomer. there are flows of energy using me as a vessel. the container is incidental.

the idea of autonomy is a spook, and nonetheless external motivations so egregious are impossible to ignore. i want ceaselessness. i want respite from the shallow unending grindstone gnawing away at my flesh. i’m unrecognizable, yet all too familiar. i want out.

idk how to express this in a way that doesn't make me sound like a pseud but like i've been thinking about how history is comprised of a series of mundane events that are retrospectively given interpretive significance. viewing my actions in this light is devastating.

i don't know how to characterize my current historical moment. the narrative mode seems inapt, so i've tried thinking about painting as a metaphor. what comes to mind is colorless and grey and a sputtering lifelessness. but somehow that feels not horrific enough.

The colors. The purple of entrails, the brown of rotten meat, the crimson of fresh blood, the yellow of fat - these colors, and more that cannot be described, cover every inch of the room in maddening array. The colors say all that needs to be said about the painter's hatred, malice, and insanity.

i’ve been increasingly frustrated today with a lack of appropriate representational object to fixate and orient around. this is the best i can do for now.

i miss when i had the ability to have a proper nervous breakdown

i’ll be better by morning and that’s harrowing

i feel like less of a person lately

i was gonna make a shitpost along the lines of “enough with ‘ontologically evil’, let’s try ‘epistemically evil’ for a while” but then i realized this has already basically been done by Putnam re: Rorty

once i dislodge the tumor making me terminally retarded i’ll stop being humiliated all the time

i still haven’t completed also my social reproduction tasks for the night sad

my mom hasn’t had a 401k this whole time you selfish whore some of us are looking to cash out when you croak

think of all the lost years of max annual roth contributions…. it’s enough to make a grown man cry

this thread is like 75% kidding

this is a self report you’re not a real gangsta of cyberspace

sometimes i have thoughts at 2am that are utterly undecipherable

i remember this was something about william james and religion but couldn’t tell you the details what was she cooking

these are fitting for disreputable reasons

i just don’t really wanna do this any more

i’m cry the concept of “preferred names” and their implementation in medical contexts is evil

i actually ended up going by myself one afternoon since it was free and i was curious after failing twice, it was kinda nice just to walk around and listen to music and look at things tho it’s defi not my scene and i haven’t been the slightest bit interested in reattending since

nvm i take it back this is adorable imagining you with a backpack with a picnic blanket inside

pretty sure at one point we did entertain the idea tho

i once invited a girl to go on an art museum date with me, she agreed with a smiley face, and then i got ghosted

looking into this

*foaming at the mouth* needneedneedneedneedne

juliet’s banner is what i imagine you two dming looking like

(the ethos of this section may seem at odds with post 1 but my aim is specifically to contrast “free time” with idleness or leisure [although leisure carries too much economistic bad air for me to be enthused about]. i appreciate that idleness could be the foil of the marxist sense of productive)

(as in a complete negation - not even instrumentally in service of productivity. but of course this does not rule out expression and creation - we may be our most active in our times of idleness! but who has been lucky enough to experience true idleness in the contemporary world?)