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To the people who watch me or whatever (thanks!/i love you/why??!) and whoever else this may concern:
I haven't been on here in eons. Most of my work has moved to the following site-
There you can find all my current thoughts and projects and musings on life and creation and stuff.
You are all fantastic. Even you. Yes you. The one reading this sentence. Yeah. You're fantastic.
All my love and appreciation,
tsundoku
![[OPEN] - Dragon - Battling the Beast](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/85402926-1786-47c5-aa82-d6f2e29275dd/dgp8u6i-31821a8a-7cfe-4225-9a0a-3a3507ee4e6a.jpg/v1/fill/w_365,h_250,q_70,strp/_open____dragon___battling_the_beast_by_dnataoai_dgp8u6i-250t.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.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.2XMykQofhSIYidGtSAXPy6VTZPmFEl8VfIBKiXUKhBQ)
Medium-sized metropolis dreams.
I grew up in a big city but I dream of small towns. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe I always felt I belonged there, the way cigarettes always felt that they belonged between my index and middle finger. Or maybe it has something to do with a small majority of my friends being from small towns.
Let me just get one thing straight: growing up here with all the catty bullshit is even harder than other places for one simple reason - you have enough space that you never, ever EVER have to get over things. Don't like how your ex-best friend is treating you? Switch classes and never talk to her again. The guy who tried to molest you in the alleyway b
You guys are going to think I'm nuts.
When I was little, I used to lie in bed and wait until I knew my parents were asleep. Then I would get out all of my little beanie babies and assign them names and characters. I'd make a story up and move them around and someone always died and there was mourning and there was kissing and there was all kinds of soap opera drama. The cat was my favorite so I always had her as my main love interest. Sometimes they were fanfictions of things like ReBoot and whatever TV show I'd recently watched. Sometimes I came up with the story from scratch. Whenever I did, the cat would almost always be called Sarah. I don't know why, but I just loved the nam
Your mouth is a gun. It kills me.
I do not have. I do not have it in me anymore. There once was something beautiful, something strong, something that fought back. I am weak now. I have grown tired. I do not have it in me to ask. I shouldn't have to keep asking. I've been around long enough, trying long enough. And now I sit here, wondering how many more daggers can penetrate this shell, how many more times I shall welcome the glory of the mud and languish in the swamps that claimed that bloody horse. The horse had a best friend that cried for him. But it loved the idea of giving up better than the idea of staying.
I am that motherfucking horse.
How many times have I looked
I went down to the beach and I saw Kiki...
So, I picked up a copy of the YU Free Press today. I'm not sure whether it's just an old issue or they only have one per semester. Either one wouldn't surprise me, considering nobody actually reads this thing. I mean, the Excalibur paper is a lot less LEFT-WING-RIGHTS-NOW, and nobody actually reads that one. Well, a few people do. The same kind of people who do the crosswords on the back and actually know what the answers to the crosswords are. Those people.
The first few pages of this thing report back on the whole Quebec student strike and the success of it all. Sure, all the kids were set back at least a year in terms of graduate time, bu
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