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#tw existentialism
incorrectbatfam · 4 months
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Tim: The atoms that make up my body aren't mine, it's just my time to use them.
Damian: Father says it's my turn to use the carbon.
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As anyone who's ever listened to the magnus archives knows, the characters are viscerally and entirely captivating. This sounds like an exaggeration, but it's impossible to not fall in love with at least one of them.
I think this lies in the intense humanity of each of them. Their reactions are so real, their emotions so tangible. Hearing Martin sob when verbally attacked by Elias, Jon yelling in anger when he doesn't understand something, or Sasha whimpering her explanations during prentiss' attack; these are all such relatable reactions, and make the characters extraordinarily easy to sympathise with.
This also goes a long way in making the horror that much more powerful. It's a bitter reminder that horrible things happen to people exactly like you. It puts me in mind of the quote "The moment you die will feel exactly like this one."
Your life could be this awful; you've simply skirted around the terror.
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Me a few years ago: oh Russian literature musical!
Me every day since then: DID I SQUANDER MY DIVINITY? WAS HAPPINESS WITHIN ME THIS WHOLE TIME?
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kaithewhatever · 6 months
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cartoonartistpng · 1 year
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“Imagine that every time you see your friends, it’s to bring a bad omen.”
“…”
“What if… What if, one day, I won’t have a reason to return?”
(Sonictober2022 Day 11: Future)
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silverspadesss · 1 year
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thinking about pib and the grapple for identity. he’s an archetype, he doesn’t have stories that are written about him. he comes into each life without a purpose and has to find one. which would seem good, freeing almost, but in a world of such detailed and driven characters who know who they are, know what they want and where they are going, it can feel lonely and overwhelming.
and right now pib is in a weird kind of peripheral space where nobody is exactly like him. he’s a trickster, but not as much of a devout or proper trickster as the others because he cares when he’s not supposed to. he protects his friends, he loves and is loved in return. he’s supposed to get in, perform his trick and get out. but he stayed with tomas for years after they got their ending.
so he isn’t a ‘pure’ trickster. but he’s not a hero like the fox said either, the hero that his new role in the narrative seems to want him to be, because heroes play by the rules and he doesn’t do that.
so he finds his purpose through helping. he finds someone that needs him, someone that he can protect and care for. it’s their story, they are the hero, they play by the rules. he does not. this is how he helps, and if he gets punished for it, then it’s deserved, as long as he gets the hero their happily ever after. because who is he if not a helper? who is he if he can’t be useful to someone?
because if he can help, if he can make an impact, if he can cast a shadow on the wall, maybe it just might mean he’s real. and maybe that way, he’ll find his purpose.
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aaaaaaaaaaaaa i'm freaking out rn because i'm getting really existential & can't sleep. i want there to be some sort of afterlife so bad. i don't believe in one but this shit freaks me out & gives me so much anxiety. i hate thinking about death.
i hate that so much of my life was wasted due to mental illness. i feel like i've missed out on so much & wanna do everything & anything now.
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garbagechocolate · 10 months
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Why do people think humans killing each other is a bad thing when animals do the same thing and nobody gives a shit? NOW I'M NOT SAYING I AGREE WITH MURDER, IT'S A GENUINE QUESTION. I will explain. (I will be using lions as an example)
The only known predator for lions are other lions. They have no need to kill each other whatsoever. They don't need to in order to survive(technically) and they don't need to in order to get food.
Lions are warm-blooded mammals and they have feelings and they can learn things, just like humans. If they learn from mistakes and they adapt. They have even made up their own language through sounds that come out of their mouths, just like humans. I think that this kind of shows that they have thoughts and maybe a conscience.
Knowing this, human beings do not give a damn if animals kill each other, whether it be for food or for sport. So why do people get so upset when humans do the same thing? It just doesn't make very much sense to me.
You are being used as example of what NOT to ask randomly on tumblr.
How do you feel about that?
How do you feel knowing you are used as the worst example in class?
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baby-anonymouse · 1 month
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so funny how OCD really does move into every area of your life so insidiously
like I just bought a new comforter, rug, and some pillows because my room desperately needs some care, and my brain has made it into some existential crisis somehow and now I’m getting intrusive thoughts of like death and nihilism and suicide and like. can we just not have nice things?????
what the fuck is this????
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grace13star · 2 years
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i keep just thinking about all the people who came before us, all the people who looked up at the skies and wondered what was beyond what we could see. i think about the first people to chart the stars, the first people to create telescopes, the first people to try and find out more. it’s something so endearing to me about humans. i love how passionate people are about exploring and figuring things out, how we always want to know more, how we always have more questions. humans were made to learn. we were made to ask questions and seek the answers, even if we don’t always find them. but if we don’t find them we don’t stop! we keep going, we ask different questions, we look at it from a different angle.
humans have looked at the skies for millennia. compared to the age of the universe, we’ve only had airplanes for a blink of an eye. we’ve been actually traveling into space for even less. but we are determined to see more, learn more, know more. and so we created telescopes that can go farther than we can yet. telescopes that can capture light from billions and billions of years ago, from billions and billions of miles, kilometers, light years away. we are looking into the past when we see these photos. we aren’t seeing these galaxies as they are now. so many that we see could already be dead, or collided, or stretched out so far they hardly resemble to original anymore. but we see them. we see them as they were, as they are to us.
to some people, that thought might be scary, or cause an existential crisis, which, believe me, i definitely get. but it also comforts me in some way. maybe there isn’t life out in the universe yet, but maybe if there is some in the future, in some far off galaxy, they’ll capture the light from our solar system now the same way we have. maybe they’ll see us how we were. maybe they’ll remember us.
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incorrectbatfam · 1 year
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Tim: One day, someone will think about you for the last time in eternity. You will be forgotten by the world and the universe.
Cassandra: Not if I eat the Mona Lisa.
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One under appreciated detail of TMA is that despite how awful Jon had it, in almost every situation he was in he could have had it worse, which is pleasantly terrifying.
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luciferten · 5 months
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I have this irrational fear that I'll somehow be sent back in time in my younger self's place and that everything I've worked and struggled for and through will be gone and erased, and that all my relationships will never be the same because now I know people and the people they will become, but they are yet to know me.
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deviildarliing · 11 months
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griffin having a manic existential breakdown at the dead of night. only to be found by jekyll. he woke him up.
he's laughing and sobbing and gnawing at his fingers until they bleed so he can see his hands again. he's wrecked the guest bedroom, torn the bedsheets to shreds. there's blood on his hands and dripping from his lips, outlining most of his teeth. there's fear in his voice, something jekyll has never heard from griffin before — the pain, heart wrenching. he laughs. and laughs. and laughs. and then he screams. he doesn't have a face. he doesn't have a body. where is his face. where is his body. does he even have one anymore??? is he still there? without a visage, without a witness. does he even exist? he can't see himself, he can't see himself he can't he can't he can't and it grows more and more terrifying the longer his mind warps into this echo chamber of both madness and hate.
jekyll has to hold him down to stop him from breaking the furniture, stop him from making himself bleed, stop him from this self destruction. everything suddenly goes quiet and eventually jekyll realizes griffin has fallen asleep from the exhaustion. it's over for now.
when morning comes, he'll forget all about it. he'll act like his grandiose, selfish self. he doesn't regret turning himself this way, he doesn't, he doesn't. don't be ridiculous. he feels completely fine, why do you ask, henry?
oh. i see. carry on.
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amagicalmoonlight · 2 months
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Hey to any mutuals who do like see my posts, I’m sorry to bother but the topic of existentialism, specifically regarding death has become extremely triggering for me for a while now, so I’d greatly appreciate it you could tag stuff regarding or relating to “the inevitability of death”, “we all die eventually”, or “memento mori” type stuff as either tw death/death mention or tw existentialism/existential dread depending on which one you see fit.
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daybringersol · 2 months
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existential poem incoming, please read tags for trigger warnings.
lost in fog. too dim to appreciate what ive got, too lucid to be immune to the ache of loss. proved over and over again that the fears that consume me are well founded, that from the moment i was born, i was destined to a life of being passed around and tossed away like old rags. small oases of autonomy between captors, just to taste what life could be if it was my own. living example of egocentric martyr complex. self-aware enough to know my sins, or at least to feel the guilt. quiet apocalypses meticulously spaced out over infinities. cycles of torment. doing art so it can be used as evidence in the trial of god. doubts that im alive, that what i call life might just be an oddly elaborate retribution for wrongs that predate my memory. doubts that the blade that wounds me is real, that the flesh that aches is real, that the pain itself is real. numbness in all organs, both left and lost.
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