Hellsaint88w88

I get into the mind of my characters when I write. Genuinely, when I’m writing a super depressed character, I get depressed as hell. I put myself into character’s shoes regardless of if they’re basically me 2.0, or if they’re COMPLETELY different.
          
          But one thing I literally can’t learn to understand is how literally anyone can hate music.
          
          A cannibalistic serial killer? Sure. A super, mega, hyper-feminine, anime-obsessed loser? Sure. A man absolutely drowning in toxic masculinity and the male loneliness epidemic? Sure. A walking red flag with every mental illness imaginable and the unhealthy coping mechanisms to match? Sure. A white person born and raised in suburbia whose biggest trauma is going to the hospital for a minor childhood injury? Sure.
          
          But a music hater? Absolutely not.
          
          I literally just can’t come up with any reason why someone could or would hate music.

I just had a dream that it was the last day of school and I went out into the parking lot to wait for my mom to pick me up. But then, the lights of the school turned off which made the world go dark as well. Then, I was just sitting on the sidewalk staring across the road into this bog where I could hear the screams of hundreds of tormented people coming from a great distance. Purple fog rolled in. A semi-truck barreled down the street towards the school before completely losing control and crashing. All the kids that had been leaving the school with me were now gone. All I could do was sit there frozen and watch the chaos unfold all around me.
          
          Then I woke up.

Working on a project that involves Lust (or Violet as I’m calling him. Dust? Sure, I can accept that name. Killer? Eh… sure. Lust? No. Fuck no. That fucking sucks.) And during the course of this story, he gets the fucking short end of the stick. Like, damn, I abuse him worse than I abuse Killer. And now I feel bad, especially because the end of this story is pretty tragic, so now I want to write a recovery story for him.

My dog just drowned in Minecraft. I was exploring the orange forest (from More Biomes) and I saw a well. And, as any logical person would do, I jumped straight in. And as I was trying to find a way to get out after my curiosity was satisfied, my dog Dust jumped in. (My sister named him Dust btw.) I tried so fucking hard to get him out, but I couldn’t break the stone fast enough because he was getting dragged underwater and he drowned.
          
          I genuinely feel like I just lost a pet. I want to make a monument or something to him, like, shit, dude.

Writing a scary story, so I turned off the lights and put spooky music on super loud in my headphones to get in the mood, and so I nearly screamed when someone opened my door.

I hate it when people refuse to help themselves. My sister is like “I hate being inside all the time, I feel like I don’t have a life” (since she’s doing online classes). And I’m like “Well, I’ve been doing yard work and gardening and it’s really fun! Even if you don’t want to help me outside, you could bring the dog out and play with him now that the yard is clean! It’s a nice day for the middle a winter, bright and pretty warm and green.” “No, I don’t want to do that.” “Uh… ok. Well, you could get some other hobby that doesn’t involve the internet.” “I already like making bracelets, but I never have any energy to do that.” “Then go to sleep earlier.” “I can’t because of my anxiety.” “Then find ways to manage it. When my anxiety is bad, I have to sleep with the lights on. It’s annoying, but it helps. Everyone has their own ways to manage stress and anxiety, you just have to try different things.” “I don’t want to try a million things to find out what works.”
          
          …
          
          WELL THEN I DONT KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU! Just stay inside all day watching political videos talking about ICE killing innocent people all day then complain about being anxious all night if that’s what you really want to do. I can’t fucking force you to make good choices, I’ve literally given you every piece of advice I can.

I wanna watch someone who’s really good at Observation Duty. Like, the Rainbolt of Observation Duty.
          
          “That picture frame is skewed. (Smacks loud ah keyboard.)
          
          Missing object in corridor. (Smacks loud ah keyboard.)
          
          Camera malfunction in kitchen. (Smacks loud ah keyboard.)
          
          Ghoul in the bathroom. (Smacks loud ah keyboard.)”

I have one cat who’s a little escape artist. She’s clever and crafty and I’m certain if all humans disappeared simultaneously, she’d be able to take care of herself.
          
          Then I have another cat who lives in my room and a few minutes ago, he wandered into the short ass hallway and got lost and started yowling until I went to go save him despite the fact it was like five feet away from my door.

Good morning, do you have a minute to talk about our lord and savior; Platform Boots? I’ve never in my life been an average height before now. These shoes are more comfortable than my regular shoes and surprisingly light weight. I look hot, feel hot, and can finally look people in the eyes without craning my neck up.
          
          I’m telling you… BURY ME IN THIS FUCKING THINGS! I want to strut through the pearl gates in these things like a bad bitch.

Reddit is the worst place on the internet.