Cactus Codex

Pony blogger, actual cactus, artist, writer, computer scientist, and linguist. New Jersey / Pennsylvania | 21 | male, he/him/his | asexual hispanic | Cereus repandus, or Peruvian apple cactus

A Sort of Endgame

I feel like I’ve broken too many ties. Like I’m running out of options. Or rather just feeling nostalgic about the times when I was bombarded by a bunch of new people.

Is it my fault that I just don’t seem to talk to anyone anymore? Yeah, probably.

Do I want to talk to new people? Yeah, definitely. But I’m still reserved. What if I mess up a fourth time? Sean, Chris, Boulder, and then who’s next? Who will I lose this time?

Who will I offend? Who will I push away? Who will I never talk to because we’re so different?

That anon message from a while back. The one about questioning whether they should still be friends with me. I still think about it everyday. Who could it be? Is it one of the three? Is it someone I still know?…

That message is the realization of my greatest fear. The main driver of my paranoia. People hate me. Everyone hates me. This community is blacklisting me. I just exist to waste space or suck the life out of everyone. I ruin everything I touch. I’ll never be happy. And I’ll never be in touch with friends for the rest of my life.

I’m so tired of having this dictate my life. I’m tired of pretending that I’m happy with this status quo. I’m tired of being ignored and being so shy and being so reserved. I hate that stupid message. I want to change.

So I might as well start by just acknowledging everything that’s wrong with me. Confront the demons and all that jazz.

One day I’ll be as strong as I want to be. Comfortable in my own skin. Surrounded by people I love. The fears and depression all but a distant memory. My time on this site ending with fanfare, with a future to look forward to.

Maybe that’s why I’m still so engaged with FiM. Why I must insist keeping PC going. It keeps me going, too.

So while today I feel like shit over bad memories, blocked contacts, and general mopiness, hopefully one day it’ll all be past me.

  • Me: Okay I'm gonna leave to catch my bus after this song ends.
  • Pandora: *song ends and next song plays*
  • Me: Shit, this song's good too. Okay I'll leave after this one.
  • Pandora: *song ends 5 minutes later and next song plays*
  • Me: ... Shit, this song's good too.

XIV

postcrusade-mod:

To be honest I completely forgot that I was 18 and now I’m 19.

So uh. Yeah.

Addendum:

If you have me on skype, then my skype name was just “a plant.”

So please don’t be confused when you get that notification.

Also, wow I have a lot of people I don’t recognize anymore in my contact list.

image

Sorry dude. .2.’’’’’

(Source: post-cactus)

What happened?

Asked by Anonymous

So I’m a member of a programming/event organization at my uni. We do concerts, games, lectures, and various events throughout the year.

Tonight we were cleaning up after a concert and loading a freight elevator up with stage equipment to send downstairs to receiving and the trucks.

I was manning the elevator for a bit when one of the stage company guys told me to place a metal sheet over the gap between the elevator and floor so the carts can move easily on it.

Dumb ol’ me had trouble handling the heavy sheet and it ended up falling through the gap and straight down the elevator shaft, cutting a hydraulic line and causing the elevator to fall.

I managed to leap off the thing in time so I’m fine. Everyone thought I was fucking savage with the way I jumped off that thing, but honestly it was more of a slow descent than a sudden drop so ‘ 2‘

That elevator’s trashed, though. Hydraulic fluid everywhere.

So yeah, I broke an elevator and became Indiana Jones. Lucky me, I guess . 2.