The Joker finally has Batman’s attention, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. His excuse is that few wires got crossed in his excitement. That excuse will feel a lot more flimsy the second time it happens.
Batman’s excuse is that he didn’t expect to need his anti-kiss defenses around the Joker. That excuse will also feel a lot more flimsy the second time.
Ivy has never been greener. Joker makes a point to rub it in every time they cross paths.
Let me share with you all a journey in self discovery
Rough sketch of the new character I’m playing in Dungeons and Dragons. Nothing fancy, but it shouldn’t be. We’re exploring concepts and design options, this is all just the first things that spring to mind. Doing good so far.
More refined sketch. Kinda weird… hmm… let’s try again.
Looking better and… wait… that’s definitely not how legs work. Hmm… let’s see if we can figure this out
That looks right, but, it’s not the pose I want
Uhmmmmmmmm good enough
Actually no, let’s redo the sketch again …that’s… that’s *really* not how legs work
FUCK IT, I’M DRINKING TWELVE CUPS OF COFFEE, WE’RE DRAWING THIS SHIT AGAIN …fuck… leg check?
Life is just another extreme stress induced unfinished doodle because I never finish anything. Made worse because the ink pens ran out, so it’s a ballpoint pen.
This is how I block.oyt the awful woman. Took only an hour, and will finish in the next ten years.
(My ex never believed I do anything freehand, but I do. Always the hard way).
i miss you and i make myself sick over it like i told my mother i was doing well but i’m listening to music about lost lovers and watching the rain fall and letting myself sink into it. what i mean is that yesterday if you’d asked me to come home to you i would have run out in the snow for you. what i mean is i can’t let myself let go of you.
i guess it just hurts that i was practice. that you will love the next one more fiercely. that you will not do them wrong the way you hurt me. that you will be better at communicating. you will be better at asking for what you want instead of going behind peoples’ backs to get it. you have learned how to be honest. you have learned how to kiss, how to touch, how to make somebody feel wanted. you have learned what destroys a relationship and what keeps it going. and i guess it just hurts that i taught you how to love someone who isn’t me. i guess it just hurts that i was practice and now i’m nothing.
I have never been happier than the moment your name was mentioned and I realised I had fallen out of love with you. Finally, it was like I was finally free of the chains I had tangled around my head and heart.
Getting over you was the best thing that happened to me.
there are two settings. the first is success, a crushing perfection that simmers below the surface, a gritted-teeth force that breaks down more often than it runs. it is relying on panic to wake you up, it is nightmares about numbers, it is being unable to stop shaking when the test comes back, it is empty scores, no flaws found but still feels sore. it is the appearance of self-assurance, top-of-the-class, always-in-yoga. nobody gets into the room when you’re sobbing over your gpa. they only smell the candles and not the burning.
the second is failure. it comes in the wake of the smallest thing. a shrug and “you could have done better” rather than a smile. that’s it. and then it’s time to destroy everything. she frowned at me once, we aren’t really her friend and we must never speak to her again. he didn’t want to get dinner, not only is he not interested but he finds us repulsive. it is realizing you are sixteen minutes late and just skipping class rather than showing up late. it’s refusing to study because you understand nothing. it’s taking something down before someone can rip it down for you. it’s isolating yourself so nothing can hurt you and it’s hurting because you’re isolated. it’s missed calls, never-at-work, always-too-drunk.
i finally realized you and i were never meant to last
if we were, we never would have had to try this bad
but i still write you love letters on paper plates and napkins
and on paper from cigarette cartons at work when no one’s looking
i still look back on when we were sixteen and nothing mattered
when i told you i’d have your back no matter what happened
and now i’m telling you to leave and i don’t think it hurts you as much as it hurts me
now it’s all bruised and tired and ugly
but what’s never been ugly was the space you filled in me
and it’s still filled
there’s still a place in my heart that you will always inhibit
i still think you’re a magical human who just happened to make a few mistakes
(that really fucking hurt more badly than i can say)
and i know now that i never deserved what you did to me
but i always deserved you in your sun-kissed glory
and i guess i’m finally at the point where i really do wish you well
i hope you end up happy
but i am so jealous of the girl who will end up with you
because she will be so lucky
I hate how I’ve become so attached to you. I’m not this person. I don’t sit around waiting for a text or a response. I don’t stare at my phone every 5 minutes just to see if you have messaged me or whether or not you’re active on social media. I don’t look at old pictures and try to relive old memories in my head. I don’t get sad if we don’t talk for a day or more. This isn’t me, but lately that’s who I’ve been. I hate this. I hate how I’ve made you so important in my life.
-I hate how I’ve given you the ability to destroy me.
a contronym is a word which is the opposite of itself, having two meanings which defy each other, two reverse Janus faces.
for example, when you look at her she is both your whole world and why you are massively and horrifically empty. for example, kissing her on a sunday both feels like prayer and hellfire.
for example, you are your own contronym. someone who is solely intent on self-destructing while somehow also the only one working to save you. it is the mornings you can’t get up contrasted with the nights you can’t fall asleep. it is the way you feel everything at once like a meteor is reflecting off the solar panels of your bones while also feeling nothing at all. it’s that you want to be in love and you’re also not good enough. it’s that you’re terrified that tomorrow won’t come and you’re also terrified of what happens if it does.
for example. one shaking hand dusts to remove dirt, white gloves around a white throat, or one can dust dirt over a grave to replace it. a contronym. you are alive and yet completely unsure if this is living.