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Writer's picturebea

space is flinging itself apart

my favourite thing in the world is being reminded that i am a tiny speck, that i am impossibly small in relation to the universe and if we piss off putin and we all get blown to smithereens - the actual destruction of our earth in the almighty scale of it all would be nothing to really worry about.

i've got a bunch of post ideas that all seem really dumb and melodramatic when put into that context, because why am i standing on a soapbox yelling about my feelings, mental health, and hopeless romanticism when we're essentially just a bunch of screaming ants? space is literally flying in all directions continually, so why does everyone feel the need to assert who they ARE all the time.

i'm definitely on a quest for validation, but i feel like everyone is, and that's kind of okay? it would be some idea of perfect freedom to exist completely independent from caring about outside opinions, but i think as a society that's the fuel that keeps us chugging along.


i'd love to say that i write because i'm an overflowing jug of creativity and if i don't write it down i'll literally die. but that's probably only partly true. there's lots of things i've written that i've done cathartically; those are shoved in a notebook in a drawer somewhere to Never Be Seen By Human Eyes. but there's also things i do in a quest for empathy. i wanna write a feeling that means everything to me, show it to someone, and say 'isn't this a big feeling?' and for them to agree and feel it too. at the end of the day, i definitely love people. and that's probably why i'm writing blog posts on my soap box, so i can understand people better and people can understand me (maybe) (does anyone really understand themselves anyway)


so that's why i got this little phrase tattooed on my body a year and a bit ago. i like feeling small. i like people.

thanks for listening

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