tumblr gothic

thelibrarina:

• You are nightblogging. You have always been nightblogging. You have forgotten the warmth of the sun.
• You have never witnessed the origin of a meme, only parodies of parodies of parodies, endlessly twisting through the void. You like them, you reblog them, but you do not know what mineral they crave, and you are too frightened to ask.
• The interface changes daily. Sometimes the post button says something else, something in an arcane script that squirms beneath your cursor. You click it anyway.
• Your dash does a thing. You wish it hadn’t.
• You forgot to feed the Tumbeast. He is sitting in the corner, gnawing on broken wires. Red, wet wires. When did you last see your cat?
• You cannot even. You are not sure you ever could.
• You have an extra hour in the ballpit. You have unlimited hours in the ballpit. You can never leave the ballpit.
• The science side of tumblr cannot explain the creatures that have risen from the sea.
• You try to make John Green find the thing. The thing finds John Green, instead.
• staff​ are searching for a new intern. Do not apply. They look hungry.
• You are the outlier. You will not be counted.
• Taylor Swift’s smile begins to look strained. Her red lipstick is fading. You hope she is strong enough. She is the last hope.