Polkadot

when do i get to that point in my life where i'm not constantly thinking "i'm running out of time"

Today's nap... or whatever that was... has left me deeply unsettled. It wasn't a dream, not in the conventional sense. It was more like a recurring audio hallucination: me, endlessly chanting 'Marco' into the psychic ether, with absolutely no reciprocal 'Polo' forthcoming. The weirdness isn't just the lack of participation; it's the implication. What does it mean that my subconscious, that swirling vortex of repressed desires and half-digested memories, refuses to engage in such a basic, fundamental act of call and response? Am I, at some deeply subconscious level, fundamentally unconnectable? Perhaps the 'Polo' I'm seeking isn't an external entity, but an internal state – a missing piece of myself that I can only access by repeatedly, and futilely, shouting into the void. Maybe the whole point isn't to find Polo, but to become Polo, to embody the echoing response that the universe so stubbornly refuses to provide. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a sign that I need to lay off the cheese before bed. But honestly, the existential terror seems like a more plausible explanation... And im thinking abt accepting sleep after 1,209,600 seconds or smth

backing my pack. packing my back. pegging.

why everyone's trying to look smart and intelligent? can't we just be dummies together? Like the more you try to seem intellectual the more you look silly

Today im going to figure out everything...

when Mitski said nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody ooh nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody no body no bo dy no bo dy no

do people not realize the sleep you lose is lost forever and everytime you go through long periods of messed up sleep schedule it will have long lasting effects

“If I am not extraordinary, I will be abandoned. But if I am too extraordinary, I will never be loved.”

'The sharper your intellect, the better you are at shapeshifting. But every shift dilutes identity.'

Literally 🤏 close to doing that but im the boss noone tells me to do shit

"MY BARBER(me) GOT ME FUCKED UUUUPPPPP" going to have that kinda experience in a few weeks

I wanna have muscles.

Would anyone judge me if i say i was listening to 'beat it' by Michael Jackson all day?

Sucks to be you, honestly. I mean, really. I wouldn't trade places with you for all the bananas in China or wherever they grow mostly in, or even a lifetime supply of those ridiculously expensive artisanal donuts. (*cries in Arabic* i didn't know simple things makes me happy WTFFFFFfFFFFfF)

This is how i get motivation from my lil sis!!

Lot of love in the air might as well suffocate

"You will always be a child in my eyes." . Callow . Chado . Cyan . Child my ignorance, or my persistent naiveté. Maybe it's the way I still get hopelessly lost, even when standing in the very spot where I began. Perhaps it's the dozing, the tendency to abandon responsibility for the solace of sleep, stumbling through the world with bleary eyes. Or maybe, it all boils down to that simple act I've never quite mastered(tying my shoes). Or perhaps – and this feels most likely – it's simply the mess I make, the scattered remnants of a life lived with far more passion than precision, that makes me, in your estimation, a child.