Rant TW, mentions of hopelessness, depression, flare up
Please don't read this if you're regressed! I just really need to rant and I can't talk to my Bubby because they're asleep and I don't want to bother them.
I finally managed to clean some, I cleaned the whole upstairs and organized everything. I even put all of our old clothes that we want to give to good will in bags to take out to the car. I'm proud of all the work I did up here, and I really really want to be able to keep it this way so at least one part of the apartment isn't overwhelming. But since I deep cleaned and organized everything upstairs, the downstairs is still just as bad as it was, and it's really bad. There's old rotting food in the sink and fridge and our kitchen cart and cat food all over the floor and the litter boxes are really full and its just a mess, its so bad we have bugs now. But since I deep cleaned and organized the whole upstairs, I'm not gonna have the energy to do any more cleaning for a while, so that means the downstairs is just gonna get worse. So I've been sequestered upstairs for most of the week because of that, and all I've had to eat today are 7 bags of chips and a pudding cup because when I went downstairs for food I got so overwhelmed I had another meltdown, and the small plate of mac and cheese I did manage to heat up I couldn't actually eat because I'm on my period and for whatever reason I couldn't stomach it. And im just in a really really bad depressive episode and it just all feels kinda pointless and hopeless. I'm spiraling pretty bad. Idk.
Some words of kindness or even just advice would be really nice, I appreciate all of you guys
My regular DNI applies to this post too, I just didn't have the energy to attach my pictures or write my whole DNI out. Please respect my DNI.
#not smol#not agere#rant tw #depression mention tw #hopelessness mention tw #please let me know if i need to tag this as anything else #sad baby #not tagging this with my regular tags #do not disrespect my dni please
Am I fundamentally unlovable? No. I even believe that, at least half the time.
Do I, in my heart of hearts, believe that I will ever be loved in the ways that will sooth and lessen the ache I feel right now? No. I don't. I feel as though it is a fundamental truth that though I may be capable of having it, I never will.
#and the worst part is that that right there is a self fulfilling profecy #I don't even want much really #cohabitation & planning life with each other in mind #casual physical intimacy in the sense of like. practically being in each others laps while watching a movie #the other person/s being just as eager or more eager to plan/initiate plans to hang out than I am #just. blegh. I don't feel Incomplete without it I don't Need it but I want it so much that it aches #and I don't think the answer is to want it Less. the yearning isn't the problem it's the #the Hopelessness attached to it #if I could Tame the yearning & turn it to a gentler beast of wistfullness & 'one day's t'would be fine #but I think that would require me to have faith in the eventualness of the future where now I have dread
Curiosity (Inspired by Mariusz Lewandowski’s Demiurg)
So I was inspired by this painting (Demiurg, I think) by Mariusz Lewandowski (no i don’t have a link I do apologise for that) and first of all can I just say that this is a beautiful painting and secondly I am not apologising for the paragraph I wrote I haven’t done a haunting description for ages and I was randomly inspired so yeah have that.
Yellow lightning rippled through the sky, crackling its fiery protest against the injustice of the natural world, overwhelming the darkness in its greatest moments. It couldn’t stay forever, but in the moments it was here, it promised that it would banish the fear, and everything would return to normal. It would be the yellow sun when there was none.
Blue waves crashed into grey rocks, the last reminder of the great civilisation that had once built its home steadfastly into that same earth. It had taken root and flourished against the odds, beauty surviving against the harshness of the landscape, winning against the odds. Bit by bit the waves had overtaken the landscape, returning to claim what was theirs, bringing destruction in their crests and depths, echoing the end in their solemn crashes. They had been quietly ebbing at first, but now they were roaring with an ear-splitting roar that shook the wave and challenged the lightning. They shouted What else do you have? and didn’t wait for the answer.
The answer came in the form of an ending, not a comma. Heralded by the fleeing of the birds and all that was good, and the sun abandoning the world as surely as the waves warred with the lightning, the call was answered, and they weren’t moved from the fire pan and into the fire; no, this was the cruel ministrations of a gambler whose opponent held a hand that could not be beaten, but they held three aces.
You can’t win they whispered.
Oh, but I can they answered, laying their hand down.
The universe is a cold, dark place. The eagle is swallowed by the never-ending darkness, the tsunami nothing more than a lake, the lightning nothing more than a candle in the centre of the earth. There is nothing and nobody that it waits for; everything has an end, and it is its job to bring that around. Even time will answer to the mysteries that control the universe; for they are -less of everything, but not less for it.
The universe watches with an innocent curiosity. When everything rages against the hopelessness of the end, how can you not be curious? Nothing survives; it learnt that message well.
One day it will die, the artwork of its life falling apart at the cracks before it can float on the dunes of nothingness, and is whisked away to the furthest reaches. It understands this well, but the creations do not, and to say that it is fascinated by that would be a grave understatement; everyone is attracted to what they do not understand, and this creature is nothing more, nothing less.
The colour draws it in. Blue and black are not so warm when you’re used to them, but the other colour it has no name for. In a different life it would have the words to describe it, and a hundred other colours that it can only hope to dream of, for it is hard to dream in colour when your life is dwarfed by only two.
It speaks of life, something this doesn’t understand. A thirst for life, a thirst for survival, and the universe cannot relate, even abstractly, to that. As surely as it pours this life away and picks up the remnants from the sands of existence to create another. There is no point in rebelling against the inevitable, because even the universe is haunted by its end.
But still, it looks on, its features encompassed by wonder. To rebel against the future is not something it would consider, but it fascinates it all the same. The passion with which everything strives to live… something within it is sorrowful at the recognition that it will never know anything, cursed by its knowledge of the end and its experience. It doesn’t matter whether something begs for the end to happen or drags its feet, kicking and screaming, because the end is the end, and it will always come.
It is very easy to lose your friends in an unfamiliar situation, and it is even more terrifying when you are surrounded by a world that is foreign to you. Their wings will give out eventually, and soon the birds will be no longer.
Where does water go if it has nowhere to run to? The waves, for all their life and might, cannot rage against the inevitable forever. They are not immortal; they will fall prey to time, and soon their strength will begin to tire, and they will find out just how alone everything is in the universe. They will remember how you can never be sure you have won until the final play, and there is nothing that can win against fate, before succumbing to the darkness and joining the sands of their existence, rendered to their original form from before their magnificence.
As for the lightning, the beacon of hope; it rebels against the dark until it can no longer, to the despair of its creator. It acts as though there is no end, but that is how they created it. That was the only path they ever chose for it, and nobody can help their nature.
Want to hear me rant about more Lewandowski paintings? Check out the tags of this where i fangirl over some artwork.
The Disciple Movie Review: Chaitanya Tamhane Binds Together The Melancholy Of Hope & Hopelessness Of Loving An Art
The Disciple Movie Review: Chaitanya Tamhane Binds Together The Melancholy Of Hope & Hopelessness Of Loving An Art
शिष्य मूवी की समीक्षा रेटिंग: 4.5 / 5 सितारे
स्टार कास्ट: आदित्य मोदक, अरुण द्रविड़, और स्वर्गीय सुमित्रा भावे।
निदेशक: चैतन्य तम्हाने
(फोटो साभार: YouTube)
क्या अच्छा है: सम्मान, भोग, और ध्यान, चैतन्य और उनकी टीम उन तीन शब्दों में से प्रत्येक को महत्व देती है और एक ऐसी दुनिया का निर्माण करती है जो आशा और निराशा को एक साथ अपने उदासी में ढँक लेती है। और चरमोत्कर्ष! प्रणाम करो, तुम स्वामी।
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#The Disciple Movie Review: Chaitanya Tamhane Binds Together The Melancholy Of Hope & Hopelessness Of Loving An Art
boys with eating disorders: I see you. You are valid. I love you.
#I feel so bad #because I know most men who are considered conventionally attractive are unattainable #their bodies anyways #and I know so many boys who have expressed the same feelings of hopelessness that I know I’ve felt #you are valid #tw:ed#tw:ana#body goals#tw: ana#yeah#Jupiter Speaks
hi! I am suddenly just making the connection deep in the 6th omnibus of Princess Jellyfish that Tsukimi is only 18/19 and Kuranosuke's brother is fucking 30. if they end up together in the manga I'm gonna commit.
#no one fucking tell me i wanna experience possible dread and hopelessness fresh.
I know thoughts towards Netflix’s adaptation of The End are mixed at best, but the transition from Olaf and the Baudelaires getting caught in the storm that leaves them shipwrecked on the island to Lemony, alone in hiding slowly coming to the realization that he’s reached a dead end in his investigation, the scene silent save for the storm behind him, is probably one of my favorite scenes from the series
#mine#ASoUE #just. the hopelessness in the feeling that everything you've worked towards for so long was for nothing. #man...MAN..
Yes I'm aware this has 0 context or background, this is something that's been sitting in my drafts for almost a year and is for pure self indulgence, I make no promises on if I’ll expand on any of it
It was cold, Neo registered distantly. He couldn’t feel it, though, except for how it dragged at his bones, begging him to join the bodies on the ground. The bodies he put there.
The bat dragged across the ground, the sound of wood scraping against asphalt echoing through the alley. Neo stared blankly ahead as he walked, blood on his face and neck. He wasn’t sure how much of it was his and how much was...someone else's, but he didn’t want to think too hard about it.
His chest heaved, his breath showing in the cold air. The bat clattered to the ground as he let it slip through his fingers, not caring about the noise it made. His job, his purpose, was finished.
He brought his hand up to his face shakily, wiping the blood from underneath his nose. He stared at it, taking a shuddering breath. Lines of crimson ran down dark skin, dripping from his fingertips to join the dark pools of water on the ground.
“Look at that.” His voice was hoarse as he gave a broken laugh, swaying. “I...saved someone, I suppose.”
I killed ten men to do it
“Neo…” Silas, always filled with passion and justice and good, everything he could never be clutched their brother, kneeling on the ground, looking up at him with what could only be called horror. It wasn’t any less than he’d expected. There was always that shock, disgust, fear. It's all that followed him. Their blonde hair was stained with red, and muffled fury rose in Neo’s chest at the sight. They were never supposed to be here for this.
“Neo, you’re hurt.”
That wasn’t what he expected.
Neo could feel it, now that they mentioned it. The sharp ache that was starting to spread through his side, fingers trembling from adrenaline that he knew would only take him so far. At least he had a chance to redeem himself, in a way. Maybe not in anyone else’s eyes...but maybe his own. Maybe.
“It’s too late for me,” The pain sent black spots invading his vision, thoughts beginning to haze where he stumbled to lean on the bat that wasn’t there anymore. “Couldn’t...couldn’t save my family, but you can. T..Take him and go.”
I’m not sure I could hold any more off if they came
“We can save you, too.” Silas’s voice, which was closer now, was strained with stress and fear that he caused. He couldn’t bear it, he wished they’d just go already.
“I am not worth saving,” Neo murmured, eyes blank and yet- they seemed so full of sadness. “I lost my chance a long...” the ground seemed to sway beneath him as he stumbled, knees buckling. “...long time ago.”
He was distantly aware of a shout, strong arms catching him as he fell, but he didn’t care about any of it anymore as everything went black.
I understand the whole appeal of Danny having an obsession with protecting people, and it’s great use of motivation and each to their own, ya know. But, I always kinda liked it better it better if Danny just... doesn't have an obsession.
Because, I always found it so much sadder and more intense if it just starts out where he fights ghosts because he can’t have is parents know about them. If his parents know about ghosts, then they’ll never shut up about them and might figure out that the portal now works, ask who was there last, and figure out that Danny and his friends had something to do with it, and they’ll get into huge trouble. Or, maybe because it’s how he wanted to use ghost-hunting as a way to break the ice on his un-death. Hunt ghosts and scoop them up like lightning in a bottle just to show, “look. I’ll hunt ghosts, too, if it pleases you.” Most likely for both reasons.
It’s almost fun, in the beginning. Sam, Tucker, and Danny feel like real superheros and, holy shit! They get to “use these cool gadgets!” and, “Whoa, did you see the flip I did back there?!” It starts almost as a game. Who can catch the most? Who can run the fastest? Who gets the best shot? It gets the adrenalin pumping, and even if nobody knows it, they’re doing some good and that feels good.
Ghosts are coming through, and sure, that’s nothing new. It’s been going on for a month or so at this point. But they’re bigger, now. More complex, more human, more angry. These ghosts can be clever. These ghosts can be grieving. These ghosts can be cruel. Ghosts are starting to become deadly. More of them are coming through and it’s no longer realistic to make sure they aren't seen by anyone, let alone by Danny’s parents.
Sam, Tucker, and Danny learns that it doesn't matter, that Danny, that “Phantom” is a ghost hunter. It doesn't matter if Danny gets rid of the ghost and solves the problem and saves whoever. He’s just a ghost and worse, he’s a ghost of interest. An oddity. A peculiarity. A ghosts that behaves irregularly. A ghost that’s fascinating. Something to be studied, something to cut up. A ghost that’s useful to have around to take care of the others, sure, but if they get him. If they catch him, what a delightful specimen to have!
This wasn't on the table. This wasn't on the cards. At worse, Sam, Danny, and Tucker thought that they would be grounded for breaking curfew. For Danny getting hurt in the machine. For goofing off or interacting with strange and feral ghosts. Worse case scenario, then, was Danny’s parents putting the three of them in an awkward situation when they might have thought Danny had died. But it would be ok! Because Danny isn't dead and he isn't just a ghost. Those were the biggest concerns. The worst case scenarios. Not this. Not watching Danny’s parents hunt down their son.
That puts a pause on ghost hunting for a while. Because it doesn't matter, it won’t change his parents minds, and now they’re after his ghost. Danny keeps his head low and holds back his glowing eyes and phasing limbs.
But Danny’s parents are new to this. They don’t know how ghosts work, which inventions work and which dont and why, and are more concerned with catching and studying the ghosts then helping the people they affect. The ghost attacks are getting worse, the ghosts are getting better. And, unlike Sam, Tucker, and Danny, no one is even the slightest bit prepared for it.
And Danny doesn't want to get involved, none of them do anymore. They’re tired. They know what it takes, they understand what this is now and what it costs. But the choice becomes their own safety and letting terrible things happen that they know how to prevent, like the ghosts getting cut up and experimented on and the people who will get hurt, then living with the consequence. Or they do the right thing and risk everything for it. Their time, their future, their lives.
They are all, ultimately, good people. And they decide that living with all the damage and terror they could’ve prevented or diminish, trying to sleep with it, was a price none of them could pay.
So they go hunting.
No obsession. No compulsion. No instinctual necessity. Danny protects Amity at first because he’s a boy who wanted to sooth his punishment for his mischief and for all the trouble he got into. He continues doing it because the alternative wasn't something he could live with.
#my headcanons #I like obsessions as a world building thing #but they have to be done right or else to me the ghosts and characters feel too 2 dimensional #I feel like #skulker is the one who starts making things go at a more serious tone #He's the ghost that changes everything #Because he wanted Danny dead first #And that wasnt a thing ghosts sought out before #And Skulker is what adds gravity to the situation #Danny Phantom #tired: The Fentons haunt Phantom because they think all ghosts are evil #WIRED: They haunt him because he's an outlier they want to study #the key vibe here is loss of innocence then hopelessness #then making the best out of a hopeless situation #because that's all we can ask of ourselves #and you know what? #it's enough#it's everything #anyway. thanks for coming to my ted talk about a discontinued children's cartoon