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web-critter · 2 years
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thinking about when i was small, how my mom told me that pipe cleaners were just a tool until people started idly shaping things with them and it grew so popular that they were marketed as crafting materials. and that story about how the original frisbees were disposable pie plates that students flattened to throw. and how when i was a child i had a wooden mancala set with shiny, colorful stones, but on invention it was played with rocks and grooves dug into the dirt. and middle school, paper football and tic-tac-toe and mash and mad libs, games that just need pen and paper. and before that, games of pretend with pirates and princes and masked marauders. how at slumber parties after lights out, we used to whisper storytelling games, i say one sentence and you say the next. and shadow puppets. and the way all the kids in the neighborhood used to divide into teams and throw fallen pine cones at one another. and the floor is lava game, and the quiet game, and the games i play with my coworkers that are just words and retention. and "put a finger down" on the high school bus. and little girls clapping together, and how the first jump-rope was undoubtedly just a length of rope who knows how long ago, and how natural it is to play, how we seek play at every age and with any resources we have and with whatever time we can squeeze it into in a day. i'm not an anthropologist or a psychologist but i think after food and shelter and water and air what comes next is games and stories and laughter. i think that there is nothing -- not sex or fighting or forming unlikely bonds with animals -- there is nothing more human than to play.
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web-critter · 2 years
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on love and being haunted
to be haunted - jessie lynn mcmains / haunting of hill house / @catilinas / phoebe bridgers album art / pope alexander - crywank / @martyrdomism / ocean vuong / philip larkin
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web-critter · 2 years
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“In the museum of the heart / there are two headless people building a burning house.”
— Ocean Vuong, from “Night Sky with Exit Wounds; Homewrecker”, originally published c. 2016.
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web-critter · 2 years
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A short essay, a bit of an unpopular opinion too.
I decided to look into this idea after seeing a lot of "traumacore" and "vent blogs" around here (it can be healthy to vent in that way but a lot of time it's not what people do here) and the big rise of DID, autism and tik fakers on tiktok (the ones that fake the most stereotypical behaviours and make mockery of disorders.) A lot of them seriously worry me.
Short introduction: If you romanticise your mental illness you will never get better and it's your own fault you're suffering.
Sounds a bit harsh I know but hear me out please.
Something a lot of people on the internet seem to not understand is that being ill is not an aesthetic and for real recovery you need to realise that, you need to reject the idea of it being a norm. A lot of people seem to act as if having disorders makes them special, better than others, in a wierd way even smarter than others. It really doesn't. People are allowed to do whatever they want and cope with their issues how they see fit I agree but at least they should admit it's your own fault they're not getting better when they clearly see their illnesses as a quirky characteristic and a bragging right. That only applies to people who literally do fuck all and use their disorders as an excuse to be shitty people or for their self destructive behaviour and call people "ableist" when someone tells them this isn't a way to be. When you recognise your behaviour is caused by a disorder and you're doing nothing about it and let it continue you're the one at fault.
I think it's important to mention I used to suffer with several mental illnesses and while most of them will never go away I got them all under control with therapy and medication and I get to live a normal healthy life because I rejected the idea of being a victim as a good thing. I don't want to be a victim and no one should want to and it makes me feel so bad so many people see that as an appealing way to live.
Another important notice this is not me having a go at people. I know when things aren't right it is the easiest thing you can do to feel a sense of community, you know, you go to your friends or your tumblr followers or tiktok comments and you all talk about all the bad things you experience. I've been there. I know it's the easiest way to get attention and sympathy and I know when you're feeling so down that's all you want, you want to feel valid and understood. You want to relate to someone and someone to relate to you. When you go on tumblr and reblog all these terrible self deprecating posts you know someone else posted it so they feel what you feel and when people like your tiktok videos about your issues you know they must be going through same thing. But in longer run it is harmful. You can find all these feelings in more healthy environments. The ones that don't make you feel that when you get better you will lose your community.
I do blame the media for the fact mentality even exist thought. Not the people who participate in this. We see a lot of people in TV or films or anime or even music who are the "damaged" ones, the "psychotic" ones portrayed as desirable or attractive or more intelligent than others. With character like harley quinn from suicide squad or Joe Goldberg from you or even films like girl interrupted being extremely popular among young audience no wonder people *want* to imitate that. If we see someone so hot and likable act "crazy" just like us we think "Maybe I am as cool as them. Maybe I'm not as dumb or fucked up as all my bullies say. Maybe I should embrace it." Again I used to think this way and it delayed my recovery and nearly ruined my life.
Last thing I will say recovery is difficult and I get it is easier to just give in to all of that. It feel comfy in the moment but we need to, as a community, realise that not changing our ways will only set us back. We need to get up be strong and grow as people.
To conclude, mental illness isn't an aesthetic, your life will only get worse if you don't recognise how much its fucking up your life and reject it. Shouting "you're valid" at someone when they're literally being self destructive instead of helping them contributes to big hit on their mental health.
I am open to discussions by the way. I would love to hear other people's take on it because I do understand I am just a silly boy on tumblr. I do study psychology and getting feedback on short essays like this is very important to me.
Thank you if you read this whole thing.
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web-critter · 2 years
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The burning tree bark turns to ash, And flowers blossom unabashed.
Could not find a way in the dark, For frozen nature holds no spark.
Pity those who face winter’s wrath, Fear not the haunted snowy path.
The fire dances with the wood’s embrace, For in the woods, you’ll find love’s grace.
— Amey J. F.
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web-critter · 2 years
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listen to me. you have to unpack your first hurts. you HAVE to explore those first hurts, your first feelings of inadequacy, the first time you felt pathetic, useless, burdensome. You have to process it NOW that you have the tools to chip away at it. You have to drop that weight, you have to throw it away. Your new mindset awaits; and this side is nicer, because you get to receive and not just give.
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web-critter · 2 years
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Garden cat ♡
(via)
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web-critter · 2 years
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web-critter · 2 years
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Along our journey in pain, ache, loss and grief, we lost ourselves, and we start to question our worth. I know that at some point in your life, you saw glimpses of these things in yourself; you noticed your strength and kindness and capacity for love. But I wasn’t sure if you fully believed them because it all seems too big, too hard, full of unknowns and endings and tears and questions.
Until we give someone a key to define us, control us-to know our worth. Stop there, my dear friend. I know that you’re confused now, your mind is clouded by uncertain thoughts. Pain within makes us numb. And longing makes us weak.
Months ago you saved me from destructing myself by asking someone to give my worth, that moment I saw you mad, trying to wake up my senses and you never leave me. You are there, standing still. Now that you’re in doubt of your worth, let me do the same.
I let you cry without promising you that things will be okay, but letting you know that you’re not alone facing this moment.
When you are pointing all your flaws, and painfully dancing back and forth on moving on, I’ll hold your hand tight, so that it won’t be that heavy and will guide you to cross over from this sadness and hopelessness.
I’m just here until you choose your soul until you’re ready to define your worth. Cause trust me, indeed, you don’t need someone to define your worth, cause what we truly need is to assure ourselves, that we are all worth it.
You’re worth it, you just have to give it to yourself
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web-critter · 2 years
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George Sand (Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin) in her letter to Gustave Flaubert dated 27 June 1870, featured in The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert letters
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web-critter · 2 years
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♥️ a love letter to trees:
i think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree (…) a tree that looks at god all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray …
— joyce kilmer
when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.
— herman hesse
when I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. i would almost say that they save me, and daily. i am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “stay awhile.” the light flows from their branches. and they call again, “it’s simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
— mary oliver
earth’s the right place for love: i don’t know where it’s likely to go better. i’d like to go by climbing a birch tree, and climb black branches up a snow-white trunk toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, but dipped its top and set me down again. that would be good both going and coming back. one could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
— robert frost
in the revealings of such light, such exceptional hour, such mood, one does not wonder at the old story fables, (indeed, why fables?) of people falling into love-sickness with trees, seiz’d extatic with the mystic realism of the resistless silent strength in them — strength, which after all is perhaps the last, completest, highest beauty. (…) how strong, vital, enduring! how dumbly eloquent! what suggestions of imperturbability and being, as against the human trait of mere seeming. then the qualities, almost emotional, palpably artistic, heroic, of a tree; so innocent and harmless, yet so savage. it is, yet says nothing.
— walt whitman
in some native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us”.
— robin wall kimmerer
we dreamt an orchard this way, furrowing our brows, and hauling our wheelbarrows, and sweating through our shirts, and two years later there was a party at which trees were sunk into the well-fed earth, one of which, a liberty apple, after being watered in was tamped by a baby barefoot with a bow hanging in her hair biting her lip in her joyous work and friends this is the realest place I know, it makes me squirm like a worm I am so grateful, you could ride your bike there or roller skate or catch the bus there is a fence and a gate twisted by hand, there is a fig tree taller than you in Indiana, it will make you gasp. it might make you want to stay alive even, thank you.
— ross gay
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web-critter · 2 years
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web-critter · 2 years
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web-critter · 2 years
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Can Someone Tell Me What This Means?
In my dream, I stood in the middle of my mattress in a pair of pajamas. I then leaned towards where my window was and saw a herd of buffalo walking along the street. I put my hand to my mouth and called to them with a kulning song- they turned their heads to me - something about the gaze of the buffalo at the head of the herd felt familiar and all-knowing. They lifted their chins and all of a sudden started running in the air towards me on a path of stars, getting closer and closer, about to crash in my window before I woke up.
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web-critter · 2 years
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’…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?’
1. lord byron / 2. ana mendieta / 3. mary oliver / 4,5. vincent van gogh / 6. martiros sarian / 7. ocean vuong / 8. ana mendieta / 9. sylvia plath / 10. norwegian wood / 11. mary oliver
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web-critter · 2 years
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Could I just say something real quick? 
It’s all coming. Whatever you’re starving for, whatever that ache is that stings your bones, it’s coming. The love, the happiness, the adventures, and the creativity that you are seeking, it is all coming for you. Here’s the thing, don’t let your right now get away. The things you find mundane, keep them. Store them in the pocket of your favorite coat like found pennies. They aren’t futile. Do not let them cause you to feel empty and hollow. They are going to be worthwhile. Keep the hunger for what is coming, but please, keep a tight grip on these little ordinary moments that are happening right now, because they – these tiny pieces of this ordinary affair you find yourself in – are the foundation to your extraordinary. And I promise you, if you begin to recognize your right now, you’ll see your extraordinary coming.  
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web-critter · 2 years
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The garden of Eden with the fall of man (detail) by Peter Paul Rubens and Jan Brueghel the Elder, 1615.
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