anyone else have the burning desire to deactivate all their social media accounts and book a flight somewhere and just disappear and live a totally anonymous existence where no one bothers you and you don’t bother anyone
ronan lynch is a very intimidating type of guy until you find out he wanted a lil brother so badly he accidentally dreamed the sweetest one he could to keep him company and i’m sorry but if u don’t think that is the most heartwarming & cutest thing in the world u are really wrong, sorry i don’t make the rules
Had a strange dream last night about Wilfred Owen. He had returned to life (à la ‘Mary Rose’). I was my young self, but was explaining to him all that happened about his becoming so famous. It was a pleasant dream, with Weirleigh background. Wilfred looked more like his brother Harold – had fair hair. It may have been induced by my thinking about my poems before falling asleep, and wishing I could get advice about them from Parnassian departed friends. But W. said nothing about my work, and I was merely happy at his return and taking charge of him. At the end of the dream we were leaving Weirleigh and going off abroad together. I have never dreamt of him being with me before, though he has been so often in my mind in the last thirty-five years. 'O Wilfred, how wonderful, that you are back again alive!’ I exclaimed to him. During this dream I half-awoke more than twice, but the dream continued.
from Siegfried Sassoon’s diary; entry dated 7 February 1954
Red days are when the wolves howl all night and in the morning the birds return with torn out feathers. The days are filled with ambulance sirens. My hair is on fire. Everything moves in slow motion. The flames, the heat, my body soaked in kerosene. The screams in the distance. The monster in the corner, gawking. The stripped birds. And then: the wolves.
Blue days are heavy and I spend them speaking in spiderwebs. My reflection is clouded and the air is always too humid. The world does anything it can to make my bones weigh me down. My hands, a noose. My head, a haunted house. My heart, turned into a stress ball for when you needed it most.
Green days are spent wondering if it was painful when the sky had stars sewn into it. Wondering if the pain was worth it. Cactus spines stuck underneath skin when you try to drink the water. I am walking the precipice, one foot in the real world and one stuck in dreams. I am an inventor these days, writing fables for a childhood I can’t remember.
Purple days are murky and the owls have dangerous omens. I am on the tightrope. I am living out my childhood dream of being a ballerina. I am the circus act. I am the caged bird. I am spinning on my axis. The bystanders hold a collective breath. They are, after all, just paying for a pretty show. They don’t care about what comes after the fall.
Yellow days are a safe haze, coating my hands in syrup. My blood stays on the inside of my body. My skin actually does its job. Everything is safe and sultry. There is lemonade without sugar. There is your messy mouth again. Everything moves in reverse. There is my candy necklace. There are the sunflowers. There is the sunset we named after us.
Pink days are sunrises and fairy floss. I write about flowers and paint my face in watercolors. There are sugar angels on the counters. The spice containers are overfilling. I am happy and whole. I am kinetic energy and the explosion that comes with. I am rosy cheeked, and roses growing from my wrists. There is no pain. There is only the beauty I’ve torn myself apart to create. I am on the edge of a cliff. I have my wings. When I jump, I am a bird set free.
Adult here. Write this down. If you have a weird hobby and your parents have said that you should quit because it’s not “marketable,” consider that there are real people, some of whom I know personally, with the following jobs that make real cash money:
Science writer (me) Cosplay and prop maker Stuffed animal designer Dog artist Political activist for LGBTQ rights Political activist for affordable housing Music licenser Fan video mixer Bone cleaner Sports photographer Digital hat maker
@mormoc DID IT AGAIN! Look at this!!! Look at these two dorks! Another commission from Mormoc. This art is just… breathtaking. The emotions! The lighting! It’s utterly gorgeous. It took quite some back and forth to get it just right, but Mormoc was super patient with me and luckily I was able to help with some references but I’m so happy with how this turned out!
This was based off a scene from my story “learning” HERE It brought it to life more vividly than even my imagination could!
Everyone please go and check out Mormoc’s blog! Their art is utterly amazing and they are an absolutely amazing person!