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I have learned that people say they want me to be myself, but they rarely ever mean it.
They mean: be myself, but in a way that makes sense to them. Be myself, but not so much that they have to rethink anything. Be myself, but not in a way that makes them wonder if they even know me at all. In a way that won’t embarrass them. And now I’m the one hesitating, trying to figure out what I’m apparently not giving—something I wasn’t even aware was missing.
And I have to wonder if I’m the one getting it wrong.
whats your favorite constellation? mine is boötes!
Lyra. It’s small, but distinct. The brightest star in it—Vega—was once the North Star, and it will be again in about 12,000 years. The sky shifts in ways we barely notice.
It’s named for Orpheus’ lyre. After his death, the gods sent it to the stars. A consolation prize. A memorial. I like that—how something once full of music is now silent, but still luminous. Still present.
Boötes is a good choice. The herdsman, always watching over the bears as they circle the pole. There’s something steady about it. Something patient. If Lyra is a lingering echo, then Boötes is the figure who listens to it, night after night.
thoughts on the planet ceres?
A dwarf planet trapped in the asteroid belt. Too small to be a proper planet, too large to be just another rock. Suspended between definitions, never quite one thing or the other. It holds more water than any world in the inner solar system apart from Earth, but no one really talks about that. No one really talks about Ceres at all.
It was the first asteroid ever discovered. They thought it was a planet at first. It lost that title when they found others like it, but for a while, it was something more. Something significant.
I think that’s a shame.
Errr Tonny here, you haven’t reported back to me since i gave you that xan.. you okay man?
( @coke-n-dope )
If by ‘okay’ you mean having ‘a fascinating exercise in futility,’ then sure, it went great. I did my research. I was responsible. I accounted for every possible variable—set a timer, had water ready, prepared an ideal environment, even had a list of things to do in case I started feeling weird. Which was, in hindsight, incredibly naive, because there is no logical preparation for feeling like your brain is unraveling in slow motion. No amount of planning prevents the creeping dread that your heartbeat is somehow both too slow and too loud. At one point, I was convinced I had unlocked a hidden layer of reality where time moves at half-speed and all sounds echo.
Long story short: I will not be pursuing further studies in pharmacology