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09 February 2017 @ 11:56 pm
For someone with zero interest in bringing forth decendants, and being in any way responsible for someone who potentially inherits this planet, I know an unfavourable lot about pregnancy. And most of it triggers something I don't know how else to describe than as squiggly, lightningy phantom pains. In other words, it makes me uncomfortable. To make it brief: Everything from the procedure where you have to have a subsantial part of another human's body shoved into your own body, to the fact that something squirms further up this hellhole of a flesh cavity and fuses with at least one clusterfucker already hanging around without a permit. NOt to mention that this thing attatches itself to you and is growing. INSIDE OF YOU! There is nothing more repulsive than the idea of having something not part of me grow under my skin. Those are the most horrifying nightmares I have. And this not even semi-sentient blob will continue leeching off of your body while using it as it's personal playground for nine months: it literally manipulates your entire body to diregard its own needs in favour of the foetus parasite. And when finally your btdy can't take it anymore, stands up for itself and rejects the still far from functional limb-entity. But then as the worst kind of prank-thank you note ever, it basically tears you, its host, open. Leaving you with a bloody filthy devastation zone which needs heavy-duty cleaning that can last for weeks and be at least as painful as this thing we all know as birth - stings, swellings, soreness, aggressive contractions, passing melon-sized clots, steep escalation of risk for infections, peeing having to be done in the shower.. And as a finale, the blob's first action as a separate human being is to shit a bucketload of tar that might as well be its demon accomplices melting because their job is done and now they're finally free to seep back to Hell

And my parents still hope I will consent to let this happen to me. Because grandkids

It's all too fucked up. Why have we evolved like this seriously we just fucking hate ourselves, don't we?!

Every human since the beginning of  our history who has had to go through being a baby maufacturer is a goddamn legend. A fucking hero!

Me, however, I'd rather have to watch FIlthy Frank's cake trilogy every time I need to eat, than having kids

mood: restlessrestless
being emotionally and mentally stable sounds fun, I wanted to try that this year but look who's failing

31 December 2016 @ 07:10 pm

last year I had rum on new year's even though I had eaten barely anything so i spent a few hours forcing myself to stay conscious because I was sure I was about to have permanent out of body experience

i learned sooooo m6ch felm that. do when i was fiven a 75 cl bottle of dtrong beer ffrom my boss ox course i just drank the wgole vloody filth

its all for a good cause tho: ic i can't vf alone anf asleep by 9pm l might as well be plasterwd rightybo?

duxl nww years eve up yhe bosw sid i menion 7 fucllnh hate beinf eceb slihtly frunk i panoc about losibg conteol ywt hwr wi fucling am this day is fucl

I do t ware about thise fitw of passagd st al

hrtes to my oncf a years ( dor tge 2nd tlmr) sgunl off my ass traditoon

I don't wven like lamb but that's what's fof dinner donichr
31 December 2016 @ 03:43 am
I just want New Year's Eve to be done already. It always forcefeeds me a heavy coctail of sadness, Things that were things that are and some thingsthat have not yet come to pass. Always tastes like piss.

For several years now I've been spending the evening with my grandmother while my parents are out celebrating elsewhere. I get it. They don't want her to be lonely. And that's the reason why I stay up until midnight. I don't want her to be lonely, either. But I wish dad didn't Talk about Why It Is So Important That I Do That fOR hER as though I was beyond any capacity to care about anyone. I force myself to stay awake every last day of the year because of my grandmother even though I just want to be alone and cry myself to sleep before the king has even spoken. I do not need my own father thinking he has to guilt trip me into taking care of his mum while he's out having a jolly good evening with friends.

I have no friends. I have no hopes for the future to look forwards to, except a fleeting promise of bedtime. So why should I celebrate.
17 December 2016 @ 11:24 pm
Now that this christmas thing is nigh once again I've been pestered by thoughts of firewood. By this, I mean memories from when I found some okayness in this pedestalisation of stressgalore and enforced familiekos. And when was that? When I was still too young to having developed a noteworthy sense of awareness: way back when the future beyond the next Now didn't exist. At a point in time when I was considerably shorter. Which is to say, my nose was closer to the ground. And what else is at roughly this heigh? The firewood container! 'Tis the season for freshly cut wood, after all. Or at least it used to be. Christmas is like a reversed scratch and sniff experience, really. Faded smells of ash and sap and matchsticks, distant scent of spruce cloaked in fat and spices, muffled Alf Prøysen melodies mixed with sharp clacking of patent leather shoes.  All of it trying to appeal to my senses. Futile.

Best part of last years Christmas was when I was at the beach, all by myself in the rain, making a sadcastle.
... it will only remind you that these are people you are friends with not because you want to, but because you have to!
I have realler friends on tumblr! Or at least I imagine that if I had any friends on tumblr, they'd be heaps more genuine than all of my connections on face combined and concentrated

after an afternoon begging for ideas, one had scribbled down a complex, elaborate prompt about an old she-cat seeing a young he-cat and blabblablablabla. I read if ten times and it still didn't make any sense

this isn't art. this is a seven-seconds contemporary Fuck You

~~ segway ~~
I made a stupid promise to myself, that I should draw a nisse every day of December. And so far so good. If by good, "It's something" counts because


both were done like two minutes to midnight, mostly motivated by the thought "oh tits it's almost midnight!" and it is likely going to keep happening like this
it's going to be a funny month

29 November 2016 @ 05:45 pm
and there's a hole in me that leaves me craving something but I don't know what. But I know it isn't anything I can acquire with money.

Last thing I want right now is an urge to find distractions


Tolkien, like so many other interests of my past, is still embedded in the metaphorical DNA that has shaped me into who I am. Thus Tolkien, like so many other interests of my past, will forever remain in my heart. As fond (albeit bittersweet) memories. And Tolkien, like so many other interests of my past, occasionally pays my nostalgic side a visit. Usually with a mighty ram. To make sure I can't ignore it. Which is how I caved in and watched LOTR for the first time in roughly six years. What caught me completely off guard, was how much harder they hit me. It's been a while now, since I finally accepted that I am soft and cry easily. But breaking down to bitter, painful, squeaky sobs is reserved for special events. Such as every loss and sign of affection, apparently. (Closest similar experience was when I watched the Gravity Falls finale wow that hurt like a motherfucker) I just wanted some distraction! If I had wanted an abstract dagger puncturing my chest for twelve hours, I think I would have asked for it. Except, why the hell would I do that?!

It is tempting to make a collage. ... But I know I am going to give up after a few skjermdumper

other observations: Kissing still sounds and looks gross, and I can't believe people honestly enjoy it.
Middle Earth is so wild and raw, and I kind of fell a little bit in love with it all over again. I remember the outline of most of my daydreams from fifteen years ago (damn)
Holy fuck I can't actually believe how much I've changed in those fifteen years

(I miss watching these films at Colosseum... at the same time, of course, I will forever despise all those who ruined every marathon with applauding as if the future of the universe depended on it. Movie marathons aren't really for those who actually care about the movies, really. More, it's for people who go to events just so they can brag of having been there. People who do a standing ovation every time, not because what they experienced deserved it, but because they need to show everyone that hell yeah I enjoyed that more than you, sucker! They make me want to scream.
... I wonder if I will ever get over this issue.)

I watched the Hobbit trilogy, too... because. ... it's part of the set. Haven't watched those since they were in the cinema. Because. ... melancholy. And Alfrid. Oh, how much better it would have been without him.


Someone approached me with the suggestion of co-working on a thing. Ignoring the terror I could feel blazing like solar beacons behind my eyes, they urged me to call them and plan a meeting to brainstorm. But I never called, because of my I struggles with everything concerning social expectations.

Thus, naturally, they’re upset and believe I don’t want to work with them. But i do..! But the inconvenient, inevitable truth is that I am a rotten human bean incapable of handling any level of administrative responsibilities. It shrinks my brain's capacity down to that of a walnut.

Nor am I able to verbalise any of this. Whenever I am confronted, my mind literally switches to white noise. Every channel in my head is nothing but white noise. And it doesn't help that i'm terrified that what I say will accidentally hurt, or get mistaken as lazy excuses.

I want to help, I want to co-work on projects, and I want to create! But I need clear, solid instructions..! Because if you ask how I would do something, I will spend the rest of my natural life intensely staring everywhere except your general direction
Whatever I have achieved so far in life, boils down to accidents somehow tipping in my favour. And people have a horrible tendency of mistaking this as genuine purpose.

24 October 2016 @ 08:34 pm
know that kind of sadness that weights you down like a huge, bloated waterballoon covering your head
that's how i feel

i'm so tired
why am i in charge, i never volunteered

yeah i know i was the most eligible candidate but people don't respect me for shit

i am a pebble on a road they're not even gonna consider walking down

i do a lot for them. i see through ny fingers daily and what is my thanks?





i want to kick them in the shin