Is This Anything

this feels derivative of a beany tuesday comic but i felt it was the best way to convey this phenomenon

BORN TO FORGET

WORLD IS A BLUR

I Am Memory Issues Man

410,757,864,530 FORGOTTEN PRECIOUS MEMORIES

jonathan archivist: your pastries always taste amazing, what's your secret?

baker: the warmth of the oven always felt like comfort. i liked the heat, the smell, even when i wasn't baking anything. now, no matter what i bake or put in there, i can never get rid of that smell. it was two years ago, if i remember correctly. i was rolling out a new batch of bread loafs. have you ever baked bread before? they say that kneading the br

michael awareness poster

I still think it’s objectively fucked how the world is built for morning people and if you wake up later than everyone else you’re seen as a malicious aberration of some sort. I am that but it’s not because I wake up at 11 fuck yourself

One of my biggest pet peeves is that somehow I seem to be the only person in the world who means it when I say I'm down for whatever. Like just name whatever you want, I swear on my soul my comfort zone is bigger than yours. I'm fine with sitting at home drinking tea and playing board games, going out and ending up snorting lines off a park bench with 14 strangers at 3 AM, going to national theatre to see their production of La Traviata, sitting outside a grocery store watching pigeons fight over french fries, I'm 100% down. Just tell me how to dress for the occasion and I'll be there.

And then people are like "nooooo I don't wanna take charge just you decide uwu" and that's essentially a code for "I don't want to tell you what I am capable and willing to do, I want you to guess what I want to do, and I'm not giving you a clue because I don't know either", and then they insist that they're not, they're down for anything too, and it's like bitch we both know that one of us is lying and that person isn't me.

I'm down for anything except ice fishing, cat-calling and sports events. I might make an exception for some sport that seems fun and interesting, but I'm not sitting through an entire hockey game. Like those are my limits, just fucking pick something.

I want a burger and a shake from 5 Guys but unfortunately I don't have $59.95

Now consider: a man in a dress. Not in drag or all dressed up or anything. No accessories, no makeup or styling, just wearing the dress, some ratty boxers and muddy sneakers. No socks or stockings, hairy legs in the open air, just raw dogging those nasty shoes. Hair mildly damp. Visibly sleep-deprived. Bruises on shoulders, elbows and knees, left palm bleeding. Sitting on a curb on the street, shivering, looking wretched, and absolutely miserable.

I forgot where I was going with this.

"Yes bawss" the goons say, as I order them to go home to their wives and kids, to live out their days in peace and quiet-comfort, to raise their children and to see them through to college - to watch them succeed out there in the world and to feel pride in ways they never knew they had the capacity to feel. To live old, and to die with their spouse at their bedside, hand clutched in-hand, as they fade in and out of consciousness. Voices echoing through the hospital room, and the sounds of sobbing and well-wishes from loved ones merging into the background, until all that's left is a muffled-silence, imposing and omnipresent. Through their final-slivers of life and lucidity, a voice is heard, one so beautiful and intimate, that their fears and sorrows vanish in an instant - and this voice, with its delicate-timbre, rings through their mind as it finally goes, and it speaks a truth, a truth that they know will always be true:

"I'll always love you"