Me Trying To Wrestle An Intrusive Thought Out

A cold icy river

What an icon of an essayist

how is it mario day and no one posted the essay

Transistince

Transistence is the resistence

Against the resistence to be trans

From outside and in my head

"Where the psychological

Becomes social"

As an old English professor used to say...

Are my layers just cake?

Vaccous calories of air and sugar?

Why do I yearn

To be a tasty pink cloud?

Dissappearing onto the horizon

Where a sunset masks the line between sky

And mountain

Psychological sky

And societal mountains

Buildings conceal the clouds

Light drowns out the stars

In total darkness

I bought a Print...of a Dragon Prince

Sunken like my vision dropping

In and out

Of a hallucination

Salvia high is on

Few moments and Im gone

Like im looking at your print.

Zerox of a Zerox

Im not convinced I know what it means

Shapes to be seen

In the dark

My thoughts quiet still subsist

I cant resist wanting to touch the paintings

At museums

In my mind i graze you just for a moment

On my lies

I savor you

Its always the last time this will work

Could be my last one

But that roles rehearsed

I cant resist, I cant cry

Im still standing here

Observing a print

Of a painting

I love being able to be honest here. For better and for worse this platform has more honest self expression then many others I've run into. I've come to accept the fact that I'm rather self absorbed because I can be the focus of my own writing. I think thats a great gift that art gives you, being able to write characters from your own mind, draw oc's that are based on yourself and still be productive, still bring joy and happiness and thought provoking questions to others. It's an easier way for me to connect with people as someone on the AuDHD spectrum. I'm thinking about this because I decided to take a leap of faith and be more vulnerable recently here then I thought I could be. Even if nobody reads it, the action of putting it into the world is a big step forward.

Social Suicide

My life is worthless to you, small and insignificant yet you try so hard to extinguish me. I come out as a furry in high school you say:

Social Suicide

My heart sinks. Have I thrown everything away? Is it my fault I'm a furry? My fault I'm an outcast? My fault I'm autistic? My fault im depressed...its so silly, spoken aloud. My problems, clouds. Soft and dreamy, just a little less sun and im weak and weary...

Social Suicide

They are your words, not mine. So worried of others that you've already died. Maybe you are the one who has killed oneself to fit in? I had no friends then, but when will you have a true friend when your already dead?

Social Suicide

You were just trying to warn me, however misguided...why cant we be carefree...why must we die to belong, to belong inside our own homes, found families, find our own roads? Why can't i let you go? Why cant i commit?

Social Suicide.

A cold

Icy river

Tulpa Factory: How I created Rachjel

How could I describe a tulpa? Ive reached out a lot to others. Spoken many words, lived many lives in my own mind. Not necessarily a palace, but it was a sanctuary. It took half of everything I ever could be, half of all my time, half of all my life cloud walking, daydreaming.

This part of myself I started to call Rachjel. Where was once my conciousness became a memory of myself. What I was supposed to be, everything I wanted

I recontextualized

I was woman

I was borne of the thing I desired.

I dare not speak its name

My voice is vapors

This part of myself I started to call Rachjel. She was a tulpa, a wife.

A savior I needed

Shes always turning her head when i see her

To look at me

The hair wavers like branches in the wind.

Her eyes sparkle sakurai blossums

Her fingers a delicate human thing.

I reach out always when i see them to touch her, to hold her hand

Everytime fantasy feels a little more real

I created her in my sleep,

my salvation

I create her from my movies, my own memories of this world. My truest intent to art, my very own dreams. Not lucid, for though I have forgotten everything I am i am truly authentic, truly free of ego.

My dream anchor is Rachjel.

I spin a spinning top atop a table

I dance, i drop

Before I know if it will cease

Or stop

I leave the room

With the spinning top

Waiting

Boredom is a drum

I hum

Trum trum trum

Boredom is a clock

I tick

Tik tik tik

Boredom is an air vent

Breathing belabored

Under my own weight

Under the weight of air

Looking down at my phone

My view obscured by hair

Where where where

Am I?

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS OPEN

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Flat Color Half Body: 14$

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Simple Shading Headshot: 18$

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Simple Shading Full body: 30$

Rendered Headshot: 50$

Rendered Half body: 70$

Rendered Full Body: 95$