A poem to go with that chatlog. Because I need to write more poetry that isn’t for my class.
What was held precious in the far-flung past
Stands at center as remnant of hell’s half-acre,
Yet in the midst of heart-pained murmuring
In front of all: corporeal, a shell, some useless faker.
Here, continuing to disregard events since happened
In times before. Remember how you once played taker?
You stare in the face, an odd taint and mirror,
And see how the poet meets their maker.
I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.” Once again, I calmly reminded…
PEOPLE WRITING NICE TAGS OR COMMENTS ON MY CREATIONS MAKE ME EMOTIONAL
YOU’RE THE BEST TAG-WRITING-PEOPLE ILU <3
Every time I do more rat research I decide YEAH I CAN TOTALLY TAKE CARE OF RATS and then the next time I research I decide I DON’T THINK I COULD DEDICATE ENOUGH TIME TO THEM and so on and so forth in a vicious cycle
Hi there. Normally I try very hard not to be in any sort of drama as I tend to get more emotionally involved than I should, but this is pretty bad. Enough that I don’t want it under a readmore.
Recently in the Yogscast subreddit there have been a lot of issues regarding moderating and cliquing,…