IMMORTALITY BELONGS TO THE DEAD ◯

🌱 ◦ 05 10 2026

OOOHHH that IS CUTE!! thank you for showing me, I LOVE THIS 😭💕💕

oooh!! is it very cute? 👀

can confirm: it is indeed a Squishmallow!

you've no idea how close I came to exploding with joy on the spot,, thank you 😭💕💕💖💕💕

I use social media much like an old man whimsically enamored with the world around him Every so often I see a neat plant or cute plush or whatever and I snap a photo to show all the little internet people in my phone so they too can see the thing and hopefully feel a similar joy

i am weep?? look how cUTE?? 😭💕 when I see KPDH merch it's often with Derpy [the tiger] so when my friend pointed out this Sussie perched on a shelf I nearly fell to my knees and wept right there i love Sussie SO much ;; if i leaned more into my "godbird" name, this is what i'd want it to look like

I see a lot of posts saying that you need to be creative, you need to draw, defy the odds, yaddayadda. Hey. It's ok to be tired. It's ok to not be able to do much. It's ok to just sit on the couch and stare at the wall. Please drink some water. Take a shower if you can. It's ok.

waist-deep in dry grass

I want to yap about this piece as while it's far from being my Best Work, it marks a pivotal transition The black hole motif was flippantly given to my kirin sona, Monochromius, but like a lot of motifs I instill in my characters, they have a curious habit of revealing subconscious poetic parallels

The universe has no walls, no horizon; only parts we can't currently see from where we are right now. That periphery is now my new horizon. Not an end, just somewhere I can't quite see yet. My black hole may stir but for now it'll lie dormant as I keep practicing connection and letting people in.

I've held onto the quote "the world ends at your horizons" for decades. It's from an old game I hold close to my heart. A storming accretion consumed my horizon and obscured the light beyond the ergosphere. Now with the churning cyclone quelled I can at last see out into the universe again.

There are too many people to thank and much as I am a hobbyist poet, I'll forever struggle to cobble the right words together to express just how much their presence in my life has helped me on my path to becoming a less broken and bruised person. I'll always strive to return the same love in kind.

My event horizon is still here, just much, much, smaller than it was before. It still nips and growls at strangers like a wary hound, but no longer it is trigger-happy to bite down on unfamiliar hands.

From a friends' wedding, to LARPing vikings around an old farm, to a friend's first solo concert, to opening trading cards, sleeping over, and travelling with friends, to profound explorations into the personal and intimate. They all took up roost in the rafters where heartache used to habour.

Over the summer I found myself finally pushing through the glass wall of my event horizon. The broken edges cut along the way with relapses and ugly emotions rearing their heads, but the people awaiting me on the other side didn't flinch. I was immersed into a world full of vibrant experiences -

I've existed on the other side of a glass wall from the rest of world. Any hairline crack stirred anxiety. I wanted to reach the other side but debilitating fear of relapse, of self-preserving bad habits and ugly emotions sent me into panics to preserve my hostage state rather than escape it.

Over the past couple years I've felt a shift in that horizon. In what I'll analogously refer to as some kind of psychological Hawking radiation, it started to evaporate. The sting of past experience began to ebb as new experiences, new lives crossed the periphery of my own.

You can feel its threat from a distance, and in a social context, it was unfortunately very effective at keeping people out. My event horizon had developed over decades into this impenetrable barricade I feared would remain an eternal, unrelenting obstacle.