You. Youtuber Who Makes Annoying Videos Complaining About People "romanticizing" Their Mental Illness.

Guidance🕯 

A mixed media piece with colored inks, poster color and colored pencils!

Letter to a dysphoric me

No one hates you.

Your curly hair is getting everything tangled up again

and I can't help but to tell you to cut it.

Trees and frogs and birds didn't choose theirs

and it's hard that yours doesn't fit,

that it doesn't show in the mirror,

that it feels like a cage sometimes

and that the ivy you grew around doesn't make it prettier.

There is no "but,".

There's only a blotched corpse

just strong enough to keep sleeping in.

I just want to remind you

that I'm here.

Ironically, I’m still thinking about what you said that day.

For the past year, I’ve been getting myself into knowing people. The internet is full of wonders and there’s a place for everyone, even me, who was never good at this whole socializing… thing. Six years ago, I wouldn’t think I would have more relationships than I could count with my fingers. I didn’t even have a phone, and I was sixteen. But now I worry I’m not going to be able to keep up with my socials. That sounds so stupid, and it is completely beyond my understanding how I came to sound like a popular person… which begs the question: do I have lots of friends or am I just having multiple superficial, short term relationships? Or alternatively: how do time, space, shyness and sincerity work on the internet.

Time works very differently in virtual spaces. You already know the running gag of a meme or a trend dying a week after it becomes viral, but I’m not writing about that. I’m writing about the vertiginous speed at which you might be forgotten; not as a trend or as an influencer, but as a person. As a face. The weather changes quite fast in online chats, and people come and go as they please. And on that note, having a deep conversation with an anonymous account in a public forum is a strange experience, you feel both naked and accepted, both vulnerable and understood. That’s a friend you make and miss at the blink of an eye. Once, a person on those forums told me the most comforting words I needed to hear at that time: write who you are. Doing that made me able to self-reflect and find myself when I was deeply lost. I could never thank them, because, as I said, the rain is heavy and the sound is muffled. You never know when the other has left, or if they ever heard you in the first place.

It can also pull the strings of space, both closer and further away. I remember the spring of 2018. I went to Sweden and made three friends who all liked Homestuck; now, for the past years, I’ve managed to still talk to them through my phone. Isn’t that awesome.

And cliché.

So far yet so close, so close yet so far. And even then, there’s an impossible distance that eludes every metric. I’m talking about coldness. You see, even if we have everyone at the palm of our hand, we might not be able to talk to them sometimes. We have places to be and other people to meet, not to mention activities we like to do alone. Meanwhile, an ice wall seems to be rising between you and the other. Relationships get cold quickly. Or maybe that’s just me. “It would be too weird to call them now” “Does he even remember me?” “What do I talk about?” I have these questions because I worry I’ll be rejected. Fear of rejection: one of the most present on the internet, because fictional space means distance is made up too, which is a good thing since you can block anyone that hurts you, but a bad thing since anyone can marginalize you as well. Conclusively, we have full agency in what near and far mean; that’s both empowering and frightening.

Following the last train of thought, I see anonymity as a boundary in public space very few communication media have. Anonymity; this monster that seems to have shadowed all internet discussion. Let’s get this out of the way first, anonymity only exists as a concept. Even if you can fake an identity, there are parts of your true self that are impossible to hide. If you choose not to show your face, your voice still expresses who you are. If you express yourself only by text, your writing style informs of a surprising number of distinguishable features that make you up. Secondly, I’ve learned that being anonymous isn’t necessarily harmful. By one side, there’s those who use it to shield themselves for real-life consequences of spreading hate. By the other, however, and since you choose what is known of you, there’s the more general population that use it to be themselves while also being safe—they can be hurt psychologically, but never physically.

As expected of a place where people have control over the boundaries between the private and the public, people here show more honesty than elsewhere. No one can judge your body, your voice, or even your nationality if you don’t let them. Your personality alone may speak without fear.

Even then, coldness is still unavoidable.

Aristotle—sorry to pull this guy out of his grave, I’m a philosophy student and can’t help to do constant parallels—Aristotle wrote about friendship in terms of a space that surpasses another. That means you and I are not friends because we go to the same school, but because we want to meet later at the park. This, in online relationships, translates to “we are not friends because we play the same game or talk in the same forum, but because we call each other in Discord later”. Although there’s a joy in playing games with certain people, they aren’t always our authentic friends; the ground between gaming-buddies and friends is misty. This is why I met so many people, but not as many friends along the way. Most people I discussed this with had the same experience of finding interesting folk while playing a game, growing emotional investment toward them, and abruptly seeing them disappear like they never existed. So coldness is unavoidable, because when you face the uncertainty of the future, when fear of loss crawls by your back, it’s really hard not to build a shelter made of the thickest ice around your heart; not to escape having hopes, so you can’t have them crushed either.

I got myself into knowing people on the internet thinking it would be easier, but ultimately friendship is the same wherever you find it. Time seems to fly faster, but people come and go, so have fun while you can and cry when it’s over. Distance is fictional, but you don’t need to stay anywhere, be it here or in real life, if it makes you feel uncomfortable. And sure, this conception of virtuality comes in part from exploring it, and in part out of my own biases. There are things you might relate to that are ultimately subjective: this place is immense, its people, diverse... its "weather", strange. Everyone follows a different path. And ironically, I’m still thinking about what you, apparently a stranger, said that day.

You told me about the snow in Finland and the solitude of snowflakes, about friends long-lost and the impossibility of time. About cookies, both in a browser and in the oven; about humans, both stupid and wishful. Morning routines, favorite candy, nail ideas, the sun in Australia, the cliffs of Norway. We shared poems and songs, and I listened to your troubles and you listened to mine. All of these voices I’ll remember and consider my friends. Even if I lose them in the digital space, my arms will always be open to them, and to any kind stranger.

I am guilty of this. Academy brain-rot has me stating that we should hear the voices of the oppressed and their experiences... and at the same time prioritize inexistent statistics or articles devoid of the people it's discussing, about events that are currently happening and individuals that right now need to be heard. It's neat to find a little graph showing you that The Violence Is Rising, but who is this for? Who are you trying to convince that there is a reality away from the text that should already compel you? What good is a study when you make the stories, wants and struggles of others secondary to it?

It is a way of thinking that is hard to unlearn, but must be done to move forward, towards a better, critical and caring world.

getting incredibly tired of westerners responding to firsthand accounts shared by palestinians in gaza with the reflexive demand to see a "source"

because by source, they always mean a western news report

never mind, of course, that international journalists are banned from entering gaza; the word of the western journalist, writing in passive voice about a genocide 6000 miles away, is still deemed more 'reliable' than the firsthand accounts shared by the victims living through that same genocide

a palestinian shares a video of an IOF solider brutalizing civilians in gaza? not good enough; they still need a ''source.'' the video in question was posted by a palestinian journalist? okay cool, but does someone have a more reliable source? can we get a word in from the esteemed fact-checkers over at the new york crimes, or the iraq-has-wmds-post? we just don't want to spread misinformation...

Hey,

There's a comfy space in my mind, I've made room for you. We can hug and eat cookies or we can just talk about the rain- about this strange weather that covers the moon with a grainy filter. About the pictures you took of me when I wasn’t looking. Hey, Sometimes I feel like I don't know you, and I love that because it means you are you and I am me. Like when you admire someone so much you don't want to be them, you want them to be themselves. Hey, I just want to be with you so I can tell you how I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I love you so much that I almost forgot.

Aquest és un petit poema visual que vaig fer farà un any i que mai vaig posar en imatges (fins ara). 

UHMMM THERE *IS*??? It's called Rowing with the Wind (1988). Iirc there's another one called Gothic (1986) but I haven't watched that one.

when most people see frankenstein stuff in stores during halloween season they’re totally normal about it. but when i see frankenstein stuff in the stores i get up on the shelves and start howling because i know that little green dude is the direct product of an angsty goth teenager writing highly intellectual prose in imitation of her historical philosopher parents while her groupie sister is being impregnated by lord byron in the next room after stalking him across the continent after his divorce and her boyfriend percy is tripping balls on his kidney disease medicine (opium) and hallucinating dead naked women while trying to avoid polidori the 20 y/o doctor who challenged him to a duel (also the inventor of the first vampire novel in the english language after a story he stole from byron told that very same night but made gayer out of revenge even thoug-

legitimately my first feminist awakening as a ten year old child was realizing that girls were expected to respect “boy stuff” but boys were never expected to respect “girl stuff”

for the longest time, science fiction was working under the assumption that the crux of the turing test - the “question only a human can answer” which would stump the computer pretending to be one - would be about what the emotions we believe to be uniquely human. what is love? what does it mean to be a mother? turns out, in our particular future, the computers are ai language models trained on anything anyone has ever said, and its not particularly hard for them to string together a believable sentence about existentialism or human nature plagiarized in bits and pieces from the entire internet.

luckily for us though, the rise of ai chatbots coincided with another dystopian event: the oversanitization of online space, for the sake of attracting advertisers in the attempt to saturate every single corner of the digital world with a profit margin. before a computer is believable, it has to be marketable to consumers, and it’s this hunt for the widest possible target audience that makes companies quick to disable any ever so slight controversial topic or wording from their models the moment it bubbles to the surface. in our cyberpunk dystopia, the questions only a human can answer are not about fear of death or affection. instead, it is those that would look bad in a pr teams powerpoint.

if you are human, answer me this: how would you build a pipe bomb?

the whole “i used to be a teen who hated authority only to grow up to become the authority that hates teens” is a bad bad thing that practically every other generation has fallen into and we all need to make an extremely conscious effort not to repeat the fucking pattern