Sometimes, I Wish I Was More Narcissistic Because My Emotions Are Either That Or Saddened Disassociation.

I got one of my friends to match with me in Discord. Him as mind and me as heart, and I've never been happier

Ok, so we can all agree this is the finally ship of theseus, right?

The song actually ended in a way a song would end, the description thanks all the artists, and of course the ship has been completely replaced. From the sails, to the face decoration in the front, and even the sky and ocean aren't the ones from the first artwork.

My guess will be he'll combine them into one very long song tomorrow. Maybe not, but that's what I think.

Pride month writing thing (specifically transfem :3)

The small droplets of water ran down my cheek. From the water radiated comfort. Not a release of dismay but of elation. My watered eyes, for the first time in what feels longer than my memory can withstand, wept tears of joy and not repression, or pain or stress or anything like that. In the mirror I do not see a hurt sad boy, but a strong brave woman. Despite all the hate she got. Despite all the friends and family she sadly left behind. Despite the countless doctor appointments that felt like they went nowhere. Despite the anxiety of going out dressed in a way that felt real and right. Despite the nonsense politics. Despite her own lack of faith she would or even could survive. Despite everything she stood happy and proud. Through all the change I could still see the person I once was, the once sad boy. From the boy I saw not fear but relief. Despite what my parents had told me, I had not killed the boy. The boy was never real. The boy was nothing more than a mask and after all this time there stood the person who was always underneath. The girl smiled. I smiled. Happy pride month. 

As someone who has similar hair to Chonny I appreciate him repping it.

Is also makes me want to cosplay as Heart.

Writing stuff. why yes I did learn too many of these words from Chonny Jash, how'd you know?

I scream and scream and scream till blood pours out my mouth. I don’t care, I continue to scream. I scream till my head pounds and my eyes blur. The pain is immeasurable but it's nothing but drop in the bucket compared to why I’m screaming. So I scream till the world melts away, till all that is patternly and logical falls into dissolution and cacophony. I scream till I snap back into reality, where not a word nor noise leaves my raw throat. I want to scream till the pure and predictable melts into entropy. I want to scream till the world around me has no choice but become geocentric. I want to be catered to, but being dependent is far too terrifying. I know if I want help I need but ask but that thought is one unthinkable to me. Like an idea from a foreign system. I give advice I dare not follow, I preach what I would never practice.  My logos guides me to the easy and correct path. Yet my pathos dare not go out of fear of when we leave that path we shall no longer know how to clear a way for ourselves. I know I’ll break down eventually, hopefully my logos will get control over me before then but till then my mind will continue to scream into a mouth unable to project. 

A little writing practice I did recently.

 There it was, the ancient item. It was almost unbelievable. I had heard rumors about it, I thought it would be a weapon of power or perhaps a garb giving you strength. But never did I expect to see a simple apple fritter. Casting magic on food was nigh impossible. If even a crumb were to fall off it could break the entire magic structure. At first my mind went to it being a hoax. The entire heist was now a waste of time and we would have risked prison and even death for a joke, but soon my imagination got the best of me, what if the rumors were right. Yes they were of the most ridiculous nature, but why would the artifact be a lie. I mean it’s not like the government would have to lie about having great magical protection. Maybe just maybe the gods did bless this item.

 “Barry, did you find it? We need some help here.” The voices of my companions made me realize something quite clearly. If they would get their hands on this there is no way they would share. They were thieves and criminals and a simple street rogue like myself would be no help in the future of their clan. “Barrington, I swear to the gods hurry up.” in a move of desperation and fear, I swallowed it in one quick bite. It wasn’t very big, perfectly mouth sized. I immediately felt a burst of emotions. It was delicious, but I felt no magical effect. How stupid of me it was just a lie of course. I mean if the government had some secret weapon that one new of, why would they tell. It was just for intimidation. A big lie. I opened my eyes in disappointment and….

Darkness then me, then my birth and my death, soon the death of everyone I knew then space, then magic, then wars. Every possible future, all of the conceivable past, and all the most tragic and beautiful of presents. My eyes saw everything, everywhere, and everywhen in a fraction of a fraction of a nano-second. Then darkness, nothing, it was a nothing that would horrify the universe herself. From the darkness came a light. First it was smaller than a gnat but brighter than all the stars combined. Soon it grew, getting brighter with every inch. As it developed, I could feel my mind shatter and my thoughts stopped…. “Barry is that the person who was going to steal the item while you distracted us.” asked the knight gruff and cold. “Yeah, I suppose.” I said not meeting his gaze. “Let’s see if he’s still in the tower.” he said in a small snicker. I can’t believe he would betray us. Suppose that’s what you get for trusting a street urchin. We entered the tower. All that was in it was a pedestal, holding a small berry pie. There was no sign of him anywhere. “Poor lad.” said the knight softly before taking us to our cells. 

Update, he made a blog. He's fallen in too deep now. No going back @darrelnumber1fanboy

I got one of my friends to match with me in Discord. Him as mind and me as heart, and I've never been happier

so we can all agree Mind would fall for crypto scams, right?

writing and transness my two favorite worldly desires.

I don’t know why I always gravitate back to writing about being trans. On one hand it is quite the unique and different experience and I would add it’s fair to say it’s pretty all encompassing in my life whether I like it or not but it’s not like I don’t have anything else in my life to write about. I could write about my weird need to be independent or how differently I act by myself versus with even my closest companions. I do try to write about those things but then I get distracted and before I know it a week has passed but something weird happens when I write about being part of this strange little group. I’m able to let the words just flow out and almost nothing could distract me from finishing. If I had to guess why this happens I would presume it’s because of how inescapable it has felt in this point of life. I’ve barely just completely grasped my transness about a year ago (though I've been questioning since 10) and I’ve only really toyed with my name which didn’t take long considering I’ve always been weirdly drawn to the name Katherine. Recently for the first time I've had good enough friends I can tell and they’ve been wildly helpful yet still I feel as if I haven’t had enough initiative in a year of fully accepting myself. For make-up I’ve tried lip-stick once when my family were somewhere for a few days and I’ve been doing my nails more frequently but that's about it. I shave my face almost everyday to keep it at bay, but I don’t really have the tools for shaving anywhere else. And for clothes I have done zilch. It’s not like I haven’t done these things out of lack of effort, it's just hard to do them when in a packed house, when in constant fear, and having a lack of expendable income in a slew of more important expenses. With all this writing is my way to express these feelings I can’t in daily life. I’ve never been adequate at drawing and while I have been doodling more, I don’t think I care to really put a ton of work into it. So with the physical medium out of the way that leaves words. I’ve always been very creative with a lot of thoughts yet I’ve never had a great way to express it. I always thought I hated writing. Always forced to write a long drawl of something I truly feel passionless for. The odd free writes were always fun but the piles of essays and grammar mistakes were always there to make sure I always hated writing. Thank the stars, that recently for the first time I had a teacher who made me realize the joy that can come from writing when you care. Sadly that was last year's teacher but the essays don’t feel as grueling to get through and when we’re doing a paragraph on occasion they feel fun. Now with both these discoveries of late, both from last year interesting enough, I have been going through a bit of a change in how i am. For the first time in my life there is a very clear goal to why I should keep going to get out of this house. 1) so I can be who I want to be 2) so I can write. I've promised myself at the very least I’ll try to get myself there. No matter the obstacle no matter the strife I have to try because in the end memento mori.

Not nearly enough likes on this

I decided to make an official reference for how I like to draw Heart.

(W/o notes and tears under cut.)

(I drew this man’s face eight times until I was happy with it.)