I had to do it. Something compelled me to make this happen and by god i think i made something great! Here’s to the new pokemon coming out and to me never not finding an excuse to draw the warrior of sunlight.
“Are we done being dramatic and having fake dates with
werewolves?” Damon snapped and you smiled, dropping who ever you’d been feeding
off and turned to face him.
“I’m just having fun, without you.” You huffed and Damon
rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I can see, I imagine you’re going to feel rather hung
over what with all the frat boy’s you’ve drunk.” He pointed at the half-conscious
boys and the slight sway of your body and flush of your cheeks.
“Well you’re not going to stop me from having my fun.” You
huffed and he groaned.
So my parents pastor went on a rant about how paganism these days takes the form of “inviting people to worship at altar of self expression” and I thought that sounded just beautiful.
That being said, I think I’m going to construct a travel altar around this and hopefully be able to let y'all know how it goes. I’ve never really been drawn to altars before now, but I feel very much compelled to do this.
Wish me luck! 😉
The Mary Sue thing in itself is sexist because it’s the name of a woman. Everyone was saying that Luke had the exact same [capabilities]. I think Rey is incredible vulnerable, and nothing she’s doing is for the greater good. She’s just doing what she thinks is the right thing. And she doesn’t want to do some of it, but she feels compelled to do it. So for me, I was just confused.
Depression has me moving slow and thinking fast. Thoughts fly through my head like meteors and crash against the gravitational pull of my lethargy. If only I could move, gain some momentum, maybe the movement of my body would lessen the movement of my mind. Because the thoughts are not helpful. They do not compell me to reach higher or take steps forward. On the contrary, they keep me glued down in the fetal position with the curtains drawn to block the light of this beautiful day I am biochemically incapable of enjoying. Thoughts of then, now, and when. They’re all monochromatic and dreary, and I know it’s partly the depression, but it’s partly the truth, too. The truth is that my past is spiked with pain, my present is dull and unmotivating, and my future is something I fear too much to examine closely. What are the chances my brain chemistry will become healthy? What are the chances I will learn to love and believe in myself? What are the chances that hoping is powerful enough to elicit positive outcomes? What are the chances? Chances are that today I’m too down to pull myself up with any success. Chances are that today is another day to just get through and pray that tomorrow will be better, that I’ll be lighter, that participating will not be painful.