Grumpy old hag hyperfixating on fictional men doing it as a distraction technique to stave off the horror of existing in a world on the brink of total collapse. Hopefully I can be sort of funny about it sometimes. 25+ Read my stuff it's over there -> ao3
"I think about how after a suicide people say
things like, “Oh, I wish we had known. I wish he had said something.”
But usually it isn’t that he never said anything but that he was always saying it, and that the saying turned into a drone, which had no meaning except exhaustion, which became the background of life. It’s not that we never knew, it’s that we always knew, and so it didn’t seem
important."
- Lisa Stevenson, Life Beside Itself: Imagining Care in the Canadian Arctic (2014)
please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts
you came back wrong and i am racked with guilt because i cannot bear to see you like this and i should have let you rest. i loved you so much that i defied death itself but i do not think either of us are happy
I'm sure this is old news, but Oswald's notes are killing me, this petty bitch! The notes for Fish are no surprise, if a little teen serial killer-ish, and unfortunately I can't quite make out what Falcone's says, but Mayor James with the dunce hat saying "oink", Bullock's saying one thing to be replaced with the kill note, the newspaper photo of Bruce at his parents funeral with "cry baby Brucie". Its so catty. It's so unnecessary. Oswald, honey, c'mon now. And then Jim's label being "Stooge" with three exclamation marks because he's Dramatique like that and Barbara's labelled "lying slut." Gurl please, it's basically the Burn Book. Seriously, spot the difference.