The two things I love most about language are simultaneously that the human need to communicate is so strong that we will invent languages, vocabularies, and new turns of phrases at the drop of a hat (freeing our thoughts from the confines of our mind), but also that language is so naturally limiting that it won't truly encapsulate your deepest, most inner thoughts and feelings (your thoughts are yours, but at what cost). Do you understand how feral this makes me feel. "Please understand me," we tell each other, and we both will be seen but also so, so misunderstood, and it isn't our faults, not really, and we continue trying, trying, trying to be understood.
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One of my preferred activities to do on tumblr lately has been to open the notes of random posts and just peoplewatch. Yesterday I found a person who said they had 'priviledge guilt' for not being able to sew. I stalked their blog and in their bio they claimed to be 'no more than 12%' indigenous. On further stalking, I found a reblogged post with the tags that claimed their dream job would have been to be a servant in a feudal household. They were 46. I got to read all this for free.
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not always great at small talk but sometimes I get so used to being asked the same little questions that throughout the day im mentally accumulating tiny happenings into enough material for a decent answer just to condense it into a one word reply bc I know theyre just being polite by asking. but anyway today I didnt get asked how my day was + now im surprisingly sad abt it I had so much to say even if I was only going to deflect the question as usual :-(
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365 Days of Poems: Day 1 (January 1st)
Sharp Stomach
A knife point
digging into the thin stretch of organ
Not pushing inward from the outside
but rather emerging small
as a hunger
deep in the pit
that grows and twists and evolves
into a never-ending ascension
like bile rising in one's throat
The stinging and burning and prickling
a cousin of the cold edge of steel
as it slices through pink muscle
until it forges something new and terrified
and hungry itself:
A starvation
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Here's the link for the corresponding writing prompt post
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