Usseewa

lucky

Gender Euphoria Is what (I know what the definition is..) Also u said this before. Or someone else. Ok, it was Lies, but she was quoting you. But why u always do it like this

Is this an RP or something? I like the intro, but... Edit: I know that's not really a "plan," just the method. Edit again: looks like @Frustration showed the flaw in that.

Only a year? I've been here for OVER a WEEK Nice to meet you (song reference)

YKYANW when you chuckle at this XKCD (and them in general) (https://xkcd.com/3195/)

Huh, neat. Have you watched Now You See Me? @Akimikoisthecutest (I saw you weren't following this entry, so idk if you get notifs)

Hatred

For those of yall who know what I'm talking about, I'm continuing the "Lily" story (will be posted today unless something comes up). Already wrote 384 words. Edit: done!! (I took a bit of a break)

When you see an extraneous newline and know the feeling:

That's nice...

Yes, time to eat. (lol)

Oh, hi!

I remember watching or reading something about one and it was kinda...creepy. That was years back. Edit: why do people always use apostrophes wrong (see: thread title)

Don't ask lol. I think it's from some horror game idk. Or fan fandom stuff.

Go give the song Lily a listen. It's by Alan Walker and some others. POV me:

"subtle"? Edit: I think I might write more of these. Y'all might not know what that means, but gl figuring it out!

Null

Yard

hm? I don't rlly understand what u mean (I'm serious btw. Wdym by "type zero"? Are you asking me to type "zero correlation ..."?) edit: I was considering signing the blog entry with "something" other than Theory, but...that would be too obvious lol

yep shhh

thx :3 totally just randomly named the character Lily, nothing significant about that

Ok, so...I wasn't actually gonna write anything today. I was feeling kinda awful (I'm better for the moment) and didn't have any motivation to write. Even though I planned to write something, anything, even just a simple five-line poem or hundred-word story, for this blog each day, I was of the mind that, well, I had fun in the past two weeks - a surge of creativity - and it was now over. Then, the rational part of my mind convinced me that if I skip one day - or even forego writing altogether - it...won't be good. Writing is good, no? Maybe writing could improve my mood (spoiler alert: it did!) So, I sat down and wrote a short story (Transformed), and contemplated just posting that. It fulfilled the criteria I had set for myself, after all. Instead, I began what I was intending to be one of my usual stories - one or two hundred words; a paragraph or two - and...well, see for yourself. Transformed I wake up, and immediately feel…different. It’s hard to describe, but also so apparent. I push aside my jumbled covers and sit at the side of my bed, feeling…good, for once. I reach to my nightstand for my glasses and put them on. I pick up my phone and check the time. It’s nearly half an hour before my alarm goes off. Huh. Well, I occasionally wake up early. Nothing odd there. I turn my phone off and move to set it back down, but catch a glimpse of the face reflected on the dark screen. Solitude Lily had always felt different from others, though she attributed it to her introverted personality, which made sense. Where those around her were so open and expressive with their emotions, she was not. Where her peers talked to one another about their interests, or coursework, or life, she did not—she could not. Where others…where others had friends, Lily did not—at least that’s how she saw it. Lily didn’t have friends that she invited to her dorm, no one that she studied with, and no one to share jokes with. That last one was an oft-painful reminder; Lily would think of a joke or reference, but she either had no one to share it with or took too long to convince herself to. When Lily was studying alone in her university library, she would sometimes hear a few friends conversing nearby. Sometimes she thought of something to add to the conversation, or simply yearned to join in. She was never so lucky. Lily had plenty of time alone—too much. She didn’t have a roommate, and had no one to hang out with. Therefore, she sought out the library whenever she could. Lily loved the general atmosphere, and it made her feel less secluded. However, when the library was closed—such as during break or at night—Lily found herself confined to her sparsely-decorated dorm room, trying to distract herself from the inevitable depression and anxiety. Sometimes these twin forces of despair crept in—as night does when one is immersed. Lily didn’t notice the smooth transition until she was already at the end of the gradient. The small and insignificant thoughts weren’t registered until they became overpowering—until Lily was gripped at the throat by an unseeable force, one that didn’t flee. It stuck with her, omnipresent. Each time Lily realized that was beginning to feel better—that she had transitioned back toward the other side of the gradient, the grasp loosening—it only redoubled its efforts. Lily was glad for her courses, for they kept her occupied—distracted—and allowed the days to slip by like water. When the campus was quiet as it was during the winter break, the days became viscous. This was when Lily was most susceptible. She often tried to spend this time on hobbies like writing, reading, or binging a new TV series. When she allowed them to, these activities acted as a mental shield, keeping the endless supply of negative thoughts out. She didn’t even think about them, for the most part, even when she found herself writing about them in what was sometimes an abstract way. Writing. Lily enjoyed writing. It was a relatively new hobby for her; she had picked it up last winter break—finding a salvation to the oppressive darkness and an outlet for her inner self. She didn’t mind if nobody saw her writing—she actually preferred it that way. If they did…well, just thinking about it brought cracks to the shield around her mind. Secretly, Lily wanted to share her writing—at least some carefully selected pieces—with someone, a close friend. One she didn’t have. Instead, she either wrote about both longing for a break in the loneliness, or expressed her feelings on it. Winter break was too long in Lily’s opinion. She only understood the appeal when she was amidst finals. Yet at the same time, finals were also a reminder that the weeks of solitude were approaching. Each time, Lily knew that as soon as she handed in the last final exam, it had begun. Whilst writing during the cold, dark winter days—and nights—Lily nearly always had her headphones in, listening to music. During her first year, Lily had used wireless earbuds that she had from before moving to her university, yet she had eschewed them as she picked up writing. She supposed they could be convenient, yet their battery had run out too fast. When Lily was writing for hours on end or binging an anime, she could not stand the sound suddenly cutting off as the earbuds died. So, she had switched to wired headphones. Plus, they immersed her better. One of the reasons Lily listened to music while writing was because she couldn’t stand silence. She may hate it when others are being obnoxious around her, but most of the time she can tune them out—especially when they are in conversation with each other. She actually liked the background noise. Sometimes it was also nice when—sitting at a comfy chair in the library in the evening—there was quiet. She loved quiet during the evening. But that’s also when she put her hood up, favorite playlist on shuffle, and enjoyed the comfort the library offered. When it was silent, however, she found it difficult to write. She had to put a conscious effort toward maintaining that mental forcefield, which in turn only weakened it. Silence invites thinking. Thinking, naturally, invites thoughts—pleasant or otherwise. Lily found that music, on the other hand, let her both stimulate her creativity—or even just relax—while subconsciously maintaining what kept her…what kept her… Lily thought that writing shouldn’t be able to uplift her as much as it did. She was, after all, often writing about the very things that plagued her. Maybe it was because Lily wasn’t really writing about her, just…just someone who happened to share her distress, right? Or maybe writing was just really therapeutic, as she had been told. Either way, it worked. As long as Lily wrote, she could stay in relatively good spirits. She tried not to think of when she had to shut her laptop, realizing she had stayed up yet another night writing or watching TV, and immediately became bombarded with that despair. Lily often made haste in seeking shelter under her warm covers and the caress of sleep. When Lily woke up, she simply resumed writing or watching that TV show. She often missed meals, but time lost meaning to her during the break. When Lily realized she was hungry, she would ignore it for another hour, then quickly eat something to silence the hunger. That usually bought her another few hours. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t even notice the emptiness in her stomach for a while. She still drank, sometimes getting in a stretch break or even a quick walk around the frigid campus when her water bottle became empty. That was good, Lily told herself. She wasn’t always in her dorm; she got some fresh air here and there. That was another source of anxiety for her. Yet walks outside, alone, invited contemplation. And that wasn’t any good. Sometimes, Lily couldn’t write. She ran out of ideas, even going so far as to write a poem or short story about this. After that… Well, Lily tried to turn to TV, but either found her current show uninteresting or had recently finished a show. When neither of these were true, it only gave her a brief respite as she finished the last few episodes. Then, Lily became bored. She hated boredom. Boredom usually wasn’t just boredom—but depression. She would lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplative. Or daydreaming. Lily preferred daydreaming. She imagined getting back to classes, or thought about the characters from her latest stories—sometimes one was essentially her. Sometimes, laying in her bed, she would crawl back toward pillows—maybe getting under the covers—to get more comfortable. Then she would end up falling asleep. She sometimes did so peacefully. Usually, though, she soaked the pillowcases with her tears. Delightful, I know. - Theory

itsonlybeenaweeksoidontknowandprobablyjustdepressed... @Hmmm lieswhydoyoukeeplurking