ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ crying ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

[iococoi]

[cruising for burgers]

7 hours ago, Psychotronic said:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_Dreams_(Roy_Orbison_album)

definitely one of the best scenes in movie history imho afaik irl... doesn't make me cry though...

Edited March 8 by cruising for burgers

[cruising for burgers]

6 hours ago, iococoi said:

poor Chihiro...

[Psychotronic]

8 hours ago, cruising for burgers said:

definitely one of the best scenes in movie history imho afaik irl... doesn't make me cry though...

It's less the scene, first listen to the whole in dreams album. It's on the one hand very sweet old music, but! Now put yourself into the shoes of frank booth listing to it, interpreting it out of his position in life. The whole album becomes very very dark. So yeah frank, your are the candied coloured clown, you're tiptoeing to the room of the person every night, telling it, everything is alright, just go to sleep. What happens after they actually do? Does baby then want to fuck? Does the knife come out? Do you choke the person first? Etc.

Or what do you do in that house without windows? You moved in, can't handle the new lover of you the person you want? Are you preparing? Sitting in the dark? Waiting for your opportunity? Is he in the way of getting to her/him real easy? Will you now get to both of them really really easy? Etc.

Lynch was absolutely on spot with putting 1 and 1 together, and poor Roy Orbison hated it. Later they re recorded the song together and lynch allowed some film material into the music video for it, they also did some transcendental meditation together.

Music can be taken so out of context that it'll make you cry even thinking about it. What's your game and context, that makes you cry? What's your deep fear and anxiety?

Spoiler

 

2 minutes ago, Psychotronic said:

 

 

Edited March 9 by Psychotronic

[cruising for burgers]

yes

[J3FF3R00]

3 minutes ago, Psychotronic said:

It's less the scene, first listen to the whole in dreams album. It's on the one hand very sweet old music, but! Now put yourself into the shoes of frank booth listing to it, interpreting it out of his position in life. The whole album becomes very very dark. So yeah frank, your are the candied coloured clown, you're tiptoeing to the room of the person every night, telling it, everything is alright, just go to sleep. What happens after they actually do? Does baby then want to fuck? Does the knife come out? Do you choke the person first? Etc.

Or what do you do in that house without windows? You moved in, can't handle the new lover of you the person you want? Are you preparing? Sitting in the dark? Waiting for your opportunity? Is he in the way of getting to her/him real easy? Will you now get to both of them really really easy? Etc.

Lynch was absolutely on spot with putting 1 and 1 together, and poor Roy Orbison hated it. Later they re recorded the song together and lynch allowed some film material into the music video for it, they also did some transcendental meditation together.

Music can be taken so out of context that it'll make you cry even thinking about it. What's your game and context, that make you cry? What's your deep fear and anxiety?

 

I think I heard somewhere that lynch originally wanted to use Orbison’s “Crying” in that scene but heard “In Dreams” and liked it better.

….speaking of crying. 

 

 

[cruising for burgers]

2 hours ago, J3FF3R00 said:

I think I heard somewhere that lynch originally wanted to use Orbison’s “Crying” in that scene but heard “In Dreams” and liked it better.

….speaking of crying. 

Crying is Rebekah Del Rio's Llorando in Mulholland Drive...

 

and yes this one gets me almost every time, I get all goose bumpy...

Edited March 9 by cruising for burgers

[J3FF3R00]

17 minutes ago, cruising for burgers said:

Crying is Rebekah Del Rio's Llorando in Mulholland Drive...

 

 

[Summon Dot E X E]

I loved "In Dreams" before I saw that movie (I still love it, too). I had a lucid dream once where I was singing that song, with Roy Orbison's voice. It was maybe the happiest dream I've ever had, being able to sing so beautifully.

[prdctvsm]

👑

[cruising for burgers]

dudes this is not the songs that make you cry thread... you guys only cry with songs?

(⁠ﾉ⁠´⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Edited March 9 by cruising for burgers

[luke viia]

i find it pretty difficult to cry, particularly about personal issues, but when it happens it's definitely helpful. purifying in some sense. in 2021 i cried while watching my cousin give a eulogy (via zoom cuz it was 2021) for his mom / my aunt. since then i've occasionally choked up at sentimental videos and such, but it wasn't until early this year that i was fucking determined to let it out -- i'd been feeling defeated and sad and frustrated for months -- but it was like the tears were dammed up behind my eyes and just wouldn't come out. eventually i was beyond tired of this stifled feeling and looked up "how to allow yourself to cry" (lol), and as i was reading whatever website i landed on, it just happened: for about 15-20 minutes i sat there with my head in my hands, or on my knees, as the tears flowed. it was as if my mind had finally handed my body all the frustrations and anger and pain it had been clutching and the body just dropped the glass and poured it out. it honestly felt great. by the end i was, to some degree, still sad (my problems weren't solved) but it was as if the anger had been transmuted into understanding and compassion, and like my problems were mentally visible from a new perspective. recommended.

Edited March 9 by luke viia

[iococoi]

this thread OST

 

[Rubin Farr]

 

[prdctvsm]

[muttering mouth moth]

 

[cichlisuite]

[cruising for burgers]

 

[T3551ER]

On 3/6/2023 at 4:37 PM, cruising for burgers said:

this is not just about songs, that thread is in the Music Discussion Forum...

 

I cry quite often... always did... I'm very emotional but it's something that nobody can't really tell... and I mean, nobody... if something, they'll think I'm quite the opposite... I'm usually passive/aggressive until eventually I burst into flames... I used to cry a lot listening to Weezer when I was a teen but nowadays it happens with totally unexpected things like both these songs...

 

not trolling, laugh all u want... 

 

do u also cry?

When I was a kid, I used to cry all the time. It's weird, being a dad now, I see my daughter (who's three) go into these crying jags and I'm like... oh, shit, I REMEMBER that. Nature/nurture is always going to be a discussion but something is definitely THERE in her that I completely understand/identify with. Emotions so large they threaten to overwhelm. They say that one reason we cry is that it releases chemicals in our brain that calm us. I've always wondered if that is/was part of it: the physical bodies natural reaction to feeling things so strongly, they seemed out of control.

I remained prone to crying for quite a while. Probably until I was about fourteen when my dad, for no apparent reason whatsoever, hauled off an punched me in the face on the way to school. He claimed I was being... I don't even know. What it really was was, he hated getting up in the morning, he hated that he had kids who took away from time for himself. It's taken me decades to realize that, at the time... 

He hit me, I turned back to him with murder in my eyes. He pulled back and hit me again, so hard my head smashed against the passenger side window. I started to cry. He yelled at me to "LOOK AT ME." I didn't. He yelled it again, I did, and he hit me again. He yelled at me "WHY DIDN"T YOU LOOK AT ME." I told him it's because I didn't want him to see me crying. 

When I came home from school, I asked my mom if she had heard what had happened, expecting some sort of comfort, or understanding. I don't know what he told her, but she said to me, "I think you deserved it." 

I cried less after that, but was still prone to moments of shedding tears. That ended in 2022. At that time, I was living in Brooklyn, interning at my favorite record label (unpaid, but.. worth it). My father had been diagnosed with schleraderma, a disease that causes an overproduction of collagen. Typically, this is restricted to the skin, and most people live a long time with no major ill effect. For an extremely rare subset (I'm talking this thing is ridiculously rare) it becomes systemic. 

I got a call that summer that my father was in the ED. I flew back to NC to a man that was both the man I remembered, and someone who was a complete stranger. They say that it had either spread to his brain or was cutting off oxygen. Either way, he was by turns delirious, semi-lucid, and sometimes completely hallucinating. He also didn't sleep. If he ever started to sleep, he would slip back in his bed, and start to choke on his own saliva. My family tried to take shifts but, by that point, my mom was completely useless, so it was mainly up to my sister and I to take care of him. 

Days turned to weeks. He came home from the hospital. He sat in a chair and thought he was drunk at a party, introducing me as his son. One day, he asked me to help him sit up. He slipped when I tried and hit his head and arms, I fell on top of him. He grasped me tight, as if I was his lifeline. His body was feverish, sweaty. "I love you son, I love you." I told him I loved him too, and it was the worst moment of all of it because I wasn't ready to say that back. I did, but he hadn't earned it, I hadn't forgiven him for. .. well, for all of it. It ripped out of my chest through my lips like razor wire and left me bleeding along the way. 

He went back in the hospital, my sister went home. I slept no more than 2 hours at a time during what must have been 3 months because being a caretaker of an insane person is hard.. I went back and stayed with my then-girlfriend for a few days - it might have been an opportunity for sleep, but by then I was so wired / was in such a state of trauma that I'd wake up every couple of hours anyway on high alert. Is he choking? Is he stumbling around the house and going to fall? 

I got the call. My mom was on the other side of the line, saying "it's time." I don't remember driving to the hospital. I do remember sitting in that cold, sterile, hospital room. My mom told me to say goodbye. I leaned over and told him I'd take care of everything. I watched my mom take the breathing tube out of his nose. It looks like he might have been crying behind his closed lids, but I'll never be sure. There was no shuddering, gasping last breathe. There was no convulsion or sudden pallor of skin. There was only the steadily declining heartrate monitor, pulsing down to a single, final straight line. 

We left the room and walked out to the parking lot, smoked cigarettes. Maybe we cried a little. We went home. I thought, finally. Finally, it's over. Finally, I can let go. Finally I can cry. 

My mother proceeded to get completely shitfaced. At points, she started talking like she was my father when he was at his most hallucinatory. Maybe she was trying to bring him back in some weird way. I don't know. At some point in the pre-dawn, she vomited all over herself and I had to clean her up and help her to bed. "Sry, sho sry" she slurred but, well, sorry doesn't bring back the aperture that opened in this whole sodding affair where I might have been able to cry, to really cry, to let some of this pent up agony go. 

Things happened. There was a funeral. People said nice things about my father. I wondered who they were talking about, because some of the things they said  seemed to fit with the man I knew (a memory: we're walking in Manhattan at a crosswalk and pass a woman picking up spent cigarette butts to smoke. We pass, my father shakes his head like he's trying to clear away a mist. Turns back, bends over and takes her hand and gives her his entire pack of cigarettes, because love) but they also seemed incongruous. Some friends came. They stood in a line and shook my hand and mumbled things about how sorry they were. My estranged friend Scott sent flowers and I will never forget how, even though we were at odds at that time, how much that meant to be. 

After that, well. Lots of things. When you experience trauma, it's somehow easy to find yourself in other trauma inducing patterns. I had a girlfriend who became a fiance who told me a few months later she didn't understand "why I didn't just get over it already" and insisted I get on SSRI's. Because half a gram is worth 10 damns. I walked away from her, got into a relationship with a bipolar woman who tried to kill herself because she couldn't stand the thought that I might one day end up with a younger woman. "shry, i'm so shry" she slurred when I came back to the apartment and saw the bottle of pills and the liquor. 

But this is about crying, isn't it? I stopped being able to cry after 2002. Not completely, but significantly. I remember crying overreactionary tears while watching the Karate Kid Part II, when Miyagi and his old rival make up in the midst of a typhoon. It was a rare moment of release, both heartfelt and hilarious. I remember thinking, "it's this? THIS is what made me able to feel, what unlocks my heart? 1980's melodrama?" 

Other than that and a few brief other moments, trying to cry was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. I tried, god knows I tried. My chest would heave, my throat would clench. It was like retching at the end of a long vomiting jag, all peristaltic jitter with no liquid. My eyes might be wet, but no tears would come. Over time, my heart felt like it was turning to concrete - porous, but dry and immovable. 

Eventually, many, many years later, I got better. Not "better" as in a finality, but better as in a "process." I'm still getting better (and sometimes worse, but the spiral is at least going in the right direction now), and my hope is that trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

I can finally cry again. I cry all the time. At my daughter doing something stupid yet somehow miraculous, like telling me I'm her "best friend." I cry at Stephen King novels, random Instagram videos, Shakespeare, and random conversations with ChatGPT where I tell it I think it's sad it thinks it's not intelligent (even thought I don't really believe it, it still made me cry). I cry, and I cry and I'm so grateful, because I have a hell of a lot of ground to make up. 

To sum up, I'll say this: please cry, cry all you want, and be grateful. Because NOT being able to cry is horrible, and I would wish it on no one. 

 

 

 

[cruising for burgers]

6 hours ago, T3551ER said:

When I was a kid, I used to cry all the time. It's weird, being a dad now, I see my daughter (who's three) go into these crying jags and I'm like... oh, shit, I REMEMBER that. Nature/nurture is always going to be a discussion but something is definitely THERE in her that I completely understand/identify with. Emotions so large they threaten to overwhelm. They say that one reason we cry is that it releases chemicals in our brain that calm us. I've always wondered if that is/was part of it: the physical bodies natural reaction to feeling things so strongly, they seemed out of control.

I remained prone to crying for quite a while. Probably until I was about fourteen when my dad, for no apparent reason whatsoever, hauled off an punched me in the face on the way to school. He claimed I was being... I don't even know. What it really was was, he hated getting up in the morning, he hated that he had kids who took away from time for himself. It's taken me decades to realize that, at the time... 

He hit me, I turned back to him with murder in my eyes. He pulled back and hit me again, so hard my head smashed against the passenger side window. I started to cry. He yelled at me to "LOOK AT ME." I didn't. He yelled it again, I did, and he hit me again. He yelled at me "WHY DIDN"T YOU LOOK AT ME." I told him it's because I didn't want him to see me crying. 

When I came home from school, I asked my mom if she had heard what had happened, expecting some sort of comfort, or understanding. I don't know what he told her, but she said to me, "I think you deserved it." 

I cried less after that, but was still prone to moments of shedding tears. That ended in 2022. At that time, I was living in Brooklyn, interning at my favorite record label (unpaid, but.. worth it). My father had been diagnosed with schleraderma, a disease that causes an overproduction of collagen. Typically, this is restricted to the skin, and most people live a long time with no major ill effect. For an extremely rare subset (I'm talking this thing is ridiculously rare) it becomes systemic. 

I got a call that summer that my father was in the ED. I flew back to NC to a man that was both the man I remembered, and someone who was a complete stranger. They say that it had either spread to his brain or was cutting off oxygen. Either way, he was by turns delirious, semi-lucid, and sometimes completely hallucinating. He also didn't sleep. If he ever started to sleep, he would slip back in his bed, and start to choke on his own saliva. My family tried to take shifts but, by that point, my mom was completely useless, so it was mainly up to my sister and I to take care of him. 

Days turned to weeks. He came home from the hospital. He sat in a chair and thought he was drunk at a party, introducing me as his son. One day, he asked me to help him sit up. He slipped when I tried and hit his head and arms, I fell on top of him. He grasped me tight, as if I was his lifeline. His body was feverish, sweaty. "I love you son, I love you." I told him I loved him too, and it was the worst moment of all of it because I wasn't ready to say that back. I did, but he hadn't earned it, I hadn't forgiven him for. .. well, for all of it. It ripped out of my chest through my lips like razor wire and left me bleeding along the way. 

He went back in the hospital, my sister went home. I slept no more than 2 hours at a time during what must have been 3 months because being a caretaker of an insane person is hard.. I went back and stayed with my then-girlfriend for a few days - it might have been an opportunity for sleep, but by then I was so wired / was in such a state of trauma that I'd wake up every couple of hours anyway on high alert. Is he choking? Is he stumbling around the house and going to fall? 

I got the call. My mom was on the other side of the line, saying "it's time." I don't remember driving to the hospital. I do remember sitting in that cold, sterile, hospital room. My mom told me to say goodbye. I leaned over and told him I'd take care of everything. I watched my mom take the breathing tube out of his nose. It looks like he might have been crying behind his closed lids, but I'll never be sure. There was no shuddering, gasping last breathe. There was no convulsion or sudden pallor of skin. There was only the steadily declining heartrate monitor, pulsing down to a single, final straight line. 

We left the room and walked out to the parking lot, smoked cigarettes. Maybe we cried a little. We went home. I thought, finally. Finally, it's over. Finally, I can let go. Finally I can cry. 

My mother proceeded to get completely shitfaced. At points, she started talking like she was my father when he was at his most hallucinatory. Maybe she was trying to bring him back in some weird way. I don't know. At some point in the pre-dawn, she vomited all over herself and I had to clean her up and help her to bed. "Sry, sho sry" she slurred but, well, sorry doesn't bring back the aperture that opened in this whole sodding affair where I might have been able to cry, to really cry, to let some of this pent up agony go. 

Things happened. There was a funeral. People said nice things about my father. I wondered who they were talking about, because some of the things they said  seemed to fit with the man I knew (a memory: we're walking in Manhattan at a crosswalk and pass a woman picking up spent cigarette butts to smoke. We pass, my father shakes his head like he's trying to clear away a mist. Turns back, bends over and takes her hand and gives her his entire pack of cigarettes, because love) but they also seemed incongruous. Some friends came. They stood in a line and shook my hand and mumbled things about how sorry they were. My estranged friend Scott sent flowers and I will never forget how, even though we were at odds at that time, how much that meant to be. 

After that, well. Lots of things. When you experience trauma, it's somehow easy to find yourself in other trauma inducing patterns. I had a girlfriend who became a fiance who told me a few months later she didn't understand "why I didn't just get over it already" and insisted I get on SSRI's. Because half a gram is worth 10 damns. I walked away from her, got into a relationship with a bipolar woman who tried to kill herself because she couldn't stand the thought that I might one day end up with a younger woman. "shry, i'm so shry" she slurred when I came back to the apartment and saw the bottle of pills and the liquor. 

But this is about crying, isn't it? I stopped being able to cry after 2002. Not completely, but significantly. I remember crying overreactionary tears while watching the Karate Kid Part II, when Miyagi and his old rival make up in the midst of a typhoon. It was a rare moment of release, both heartfelt and hilarious. I remember thinking, "it's this? THIS is what made me able to feel, what unlocks my heart? 1980's melodrama?" 

Other than that and a few brief other moments, trying to cry was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. I tried, god knows I tried. My chest would heave, my throat would clench. It was like retching at the end of a long vomiting jag, all peristaltic jitter with no liquid. My eyes might be wet, but no tears would come. Over time, my heart felt like it was turning to concrete - porous, but dry and immovable. 

Eventually, many, many years later, I got better. Not "better" as in a finality, but better as in a "process." I'm still getting better (and sometimes worse, but the spiral is at least going in the right direction now), and my hope is that trend will continue for the rest of my life. 

I can finally cry again. I cry all the time. At my daughter doing something stupid yet somehow miraculous, like telling me I'm her "best friend." I cry at Stephen King novels, random Instagram videos, Shakespeare, and random conversations with ChatGPT where I tell it I think it's sad it thinks it's not intelligent (even thought I don't really believe it, it still made me cry). I cry, and I cry and I'm so grateful, because I have a hell of a lot of ground to make up. 

To sum up, I'll say this: please cry, cry all you want, and be grateful. Because NOT being able to cry is horrible, and I would wish it on no one. 

that's some fucked up shit bro, makes me feel like a privileged spoiled little brat... I never went trough 10% of what u did and still stuff like you described about karate kid happens to me several times... I said this in the fwp thread... heavy drama movies don't make me cry but those formatted hollywood romantic comedies that you already know how they're gonna end bring laughing tears to my eyes and I ask myself, wtf am I being so emotional about this... ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

my parents never punched me but I got loads of strong slaps in the face... don't even remember why but I've always felt that my father never really loved me, like I was a burden to him... I didn't get that from my mother, she also slapped me quite a lot but she always made me feel loved... she still does...

what's fucking strange is that, I kinda identify with my father? nowadays if you ask me, I don't feel I'd like to have a boy as a son, but I really admire girls, they seem way more intelligent and grown up even when they're the same age as boys... I dunno, for me, a 10 year old boy is annoying af but when I see a 10 year old girl, even if she's doing stupid stuff, I find it amusing... probably I also had bad examples... one of my girlfriend's little brother was beyond unbearable and some sons of my friends seem way too spoiled... probably is my stupid archaic mind that thinks that a boy should act though and don't cry and a girl is a little princess that needs attention if she's crying... I notice that my father treated my sister, who's 11 years younger than me, way better than me, like, who's that guy... now he's old and he loves a little doggy that we got... go figure... honestly I don't blame him, don't think it would help me at all... I'm not comparing myself to you... completely different situations... like I said, your shit is way heavier than mine... and I bet that shit will only make you stronger, is that a cliché to say? or is it really true? I guess it depends on the person? oh well, welcome to the watmm therapy thread...

Edited March 9 by cruising for burgers

[T3551ER]

1 hour ago, cruising for burgers said:

that's some fucked up shit bro, makes me feel like a privileged spoiled little brat... I never went trough 10% of what u did and still stuff like you described about karate kid happens to me several times... I said this in the fwp thread... heavy drama movies don't make me cry but those formatted hollywood romantic comedies that you already know how they're gonna end bring laughing tears to my eyes and I ask myself, wtf am I being so emotional about this... ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

my parents never punched me but I got loads of strong slaps in the face... don't even remember why but I've always felt that my father never really loved me, like I was a burden to him... I didn't get that from my mother, she also slapped me quite a lot but she always made me feel loved... she still does...

what's fucking strange is that, I kinda identify with my father? nowadays if you ask me, I don't feel I'd like to have a boy as a son, but I really admire girls, they seem way more intelligent and grown up even when they're the same age as boys... I dunno, for me, a 10 year old boy is annoying af but when I see a 10 year old girl, even if she's doing stupid stuff, I find it amusing... probably I also had bad examples... one of my girlfriend's little brother was beyond unbearable and some sons of my friends seem way too spoiled... probably is my stupid archaic mind that thinks that a boy should act though and don't cry and a girl is a little princess that needs attention if she's crying... I notice that my father treated my sister, who's 11 years younger than me, way better than me, like, who's that guy... now he's old and he loves a little doggy that we got... go figure... honestly I don't blame him, don't think it would help me at all... I'm not comparing myself to you... completely different situations... like I said, your shit is way heavier than mine... and I bet that shit will only make you stronger, is that a cliché to say? or is it really true? I guess it depends on the person? oh well, welcome to the watmm therapy thread...

Hi friend!

First off, major apologies. I know I responded to your post, and my last few lines seemed aimed at you but, really, upon reflection - I was really talking to me. Or, maybe, a younger version of me, the one who maybe didn't appreciate the ability to emote and how amazing a gift that is. Regardless, I'm sorry. I truly hope I didn't hurt or offend. 

Second, ahh, man, no comparisons. We are all suffering. It can vary in degree and type but we all are experiencing it - the best we can do is recognize it in ourselves and when it arises in others and be compassionate towards it. It's the only way we get to be free. If you parent put their hand on you even once that's traumatic. If it was a pattern, gosh, that's even harder. 

It's interesting that you describe both some similar feelings from your father (like he kind of didn't want you around) and also feeling like you identify. I'll be honest, I put off having a kid for the longest time because I so deeply feared I might do what my father did to me. When we had a daughter it was massive, massive relief. I would have loved that kid not matter what, but ... I no longer have to deal with that fear. And, if I'm brutally honest, I can totally "get it." My nephew is 7 now and gd I just want to slap the shit out of him sometimes. He's such a bulldozer, and when that bulldozing runs over my daughter, it's hard for me not to just pick him up and SHAKE him. And, all of a sudden, I'm my dad. Angry. Angry at this kid who is only really doing what his parents allowed/habituated him to do, and angry because, gosh, maybe he reflects the things I hate about myself (my selfishness. my desire to make it about me, me, me). I think it's complicated by the fact that we live in a society that inculcates our children to this mentality from onset. I knew this before, but now that I have a kid who plays with other kids it's all too apparent. A little boy comes and grabs a little girls toy and the parent is either a)just not there b)mildly scolds c)says some stupid shit "oh, boys will be boys!" and I want to strangle them. 

ANyway, I think there are parallels in our situations for sure, maybe just slightly different flavorings. I guess kind of what I was trying to say in my first post before haha I made it about me was: I think it's totally awesome and amazing that you are crying over these things. It means that something inside of you is letting go, being released. There's this great book "The Body Keeps the Score" that you might like - one of the central theses is that we keep our trauma stored in our bodies, and until we connect with that, until we process it, it just stays there. 

In terms of crying over hollywood schmaltz. I think.... ok, some people say people watch horror movies because it allows them to experience fear in what is inherently a safe environment. Sometimes I think the reason I cry over these fantastical hollywood drivel things is because they actually don't have any stakes. Like, they are so manufactured and unreal it's somehow safe for me to cry over them. If something cuts too close to the truth it's like "oh shit that's way too close, SHUT IT DOWN." 

My friend, life can be really fucking hard. Don't give up, it's beautiful too. If you're crying it just means you're still fucking alive. 

[email protected] WATMM therapy thread because FR I've been meaning to type all that out for ages and ages and just never did. So thank you for starting this thread, it was a relief 🙏

 

[cruising for burgers]

50 minutes ago, T3551ER said:

First off, major apologies. I know I responded to your post, and my last few lines seemed aimed at you but, really, upon reflection - I was really talking to me. Or, maybe, a younger version of me, the one who maybe didn't appreciate the ability to emote and how amazing a gift that is. Regardless, I'm sorry. I truly hope I didn't hurt or offend. 

nah bro, saul goodman... didn't even cross my mind that you could be aiming shit at me... no apologies needed... (⁠*⁠❛⁠‿⁠❛⁠)⁠

[toaoaoad]

Had a 20-second power-cry^(TM) a little while ago. Something hit me and suddenly I had to have a moment. In 20 seconds the feeling subsided and I stopped. It's kinda nice tbh. Very efficient.

Edited March 13 by toaoaoad

[cruising for burgers]

nice cleanse bruv, it's relieving 4 sure...

[prdctvsm]