quotes from 17-year-old me that are fucking spot-on and haven’t changed:

-I am often unsatisfied and uncomfortable during/after human interaction. I feel like I’m wasting people’s time by being near them.

-I feel like the people who call me interesting haven’t spent enough time around me.

-I feel like everyone in the world should be interesting to me but because of some invisible variables, very few people are.

-Before I begin writing a story [2014 edit: writing anything], I assume it will be an enjoyable experience. It never is, and I always dislike the final product, but I’m also proud of it for some reason.

-I wish that when I drew complex mentally challenging things I could avoid purpose.

-I always have a vague explosive philosophical concept deep within my brain and everything I write is an attempt to make it less vague but I have never been able to bring it any closer to the top and I’m afraid I’ll keep making copies of copies until I die without ever knowing what this incredible “thing” is.

although i had some really good commentary on the depressed teenage population of tumblr back before cool happy adults began stabilizing certain key communities here

about how we were all kind of thoughtlessly trawling for some shared experience and we’d find some like-minded individual and (depending on whether or not we were feeling that particular flavor of depression at the time) either feel an almost spiritual connection with the person, or feel odd and dissatisfied and write something angsty

also 2011 me (although i was irreligious) firmly believed that anyone who didn’t have their spirituality figured out was essentially wasting oxygen meant for the people who did

which yeah basically if i went back in time three years i’d probably have to kick my own ass

i think it’s because 16/17-year-old me thought emotional bonding = love

i wrote in June 2011 that i was “an easy person to like, but an incredibly difficult person to love” and it’s fascinating reading that now because i feel like maybe i’m the opposite now, or something

Hey," Victor said. "Tell me a story."
Thomas closed his eyes and told this story: “There were these two Indian boys who wanted to be warriors. But it was too late to be warriors in the old way. All the horses were gone. So the two Indian boys stole a car and drove to the city. They parked the stolen car in front of the police station and then hitchhiked back home to the reservation. When they got back, all their friends cheered and their parents’ eyes shone with pride. You were very brave, everybody said to the two Indian boys. Very brave.”
“Ya-hey,” Victor said. “That’s a good one. I wish I could be a warrior.

— Sherman Alexie, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven