Pretentious - Tumblr Posts
brb gonna go read classics and annotate gay themes.
i love being pretentious
“Ugh i love your outfit!”
I know 😌
“You look so good.”
I know 🤭
“I wish I had your style!”
I FUCKING KNOW IM AMAZING BITCH
@twenty-words-or-less film blog came into my dms today trying to trigger me into a suicidal episode.
I love the sun but I hate going outside, so I just sit in the sun in my room and just take in all of the sunlight despite not being able to see all that much. We should love the sun just as much as we love the moon. They are both beautiful in their own ways.
Sorry but I will be yearning on main from now on
currently dissociating to
why, am i so afraid to do something so small that won’t have that big of an impact on my life. Or i am just afraid that it will have a huge impact on me or am i just a pussy
i think i just want to spend the rest of my life spending my silly little goose dollars on spotify premium and tea cups from good will, and being a absolute whore for fictional characters
No one liked Luke’s new boyfriend Mark. He claimed he didn’t own a speedo & his out of control beard felt more than suspicious. Mark’s antics were ruining Eqypt. What was the point of traveling 1000s of miles if they couldn’t enjoy the bounties of the river?
Chris gave the relationship two, maybe three days. They’d all be home by then. Brad asked Chris if maybe Mark was in chastity. Luke’s ‘lost” the keys before making his boy’s act all strange. Chris said that was unlikely. Mark used excessive punctuation in his text messages and was 22.
After reviewing conversations with Mark on both of their phones, Brad enacted a plan to strategically ‘bump’ into Mark from behind to cup a feel for a belt. While the first attempt yielded nothing, a second and much slower go from the back dictated evidence that Chris was indeed correct. Unexpected, Luke was likely versatile.
When Brad and Chris asked Luke about playing multiple fields he replied ‘no’ then motioned to the water around them. Brad said Captain Obvious couldn’t touch that with a 6 foot pole. Chris then told Brad he could touch his pole. Just like that, Luke was back on top. Then Mark walked in wearing a speedo.
Enlightenment wasn’t what anyone expected. You could see everything, and oddly it took nothing away.
While working on my art portfolio to apply for my local art school/university I realized just how much of an aesthete I am or in other words just how much I do things simply for the beauty (and therefore the aesthetic) of it and not for any particular meaning behind it.
After sending my portfolio in, my friend let me look through hers and it’s very creative and beautiful and so full of meaning and feelings and it made me feel a tad bad about myself because my own pieces have so very little meaning besides being somewhat pretty (don’t get me wrong, I’m not an amazing artist but I’m trying my best) and that’s because I never had the intention to give them much meaning. Ever since I started drawing and painting I only ever did it for the feeling I have while creating and the outcome at the end but never to actually put feeling and meaning into it. The outcome has to be beautiful to me and not meaningful (which doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate meaningful art — quite the opposite actually. I adore it and I love to think and talk about it. I just never created anything the like myself).
I always thought of it as a flaw, to be honest. Creating art for beauty’s sake and not for emotion and meaning. But thinking about it some more I start to wonder, why it’s considered such a bad thing to do things just for the aesthetic of it? As long as I enjoy doing it (and obviously don’t harm anyone else in the process) there shouldn’t be anything wrong with doing things just for the aesthetic, right?
It’s okay not to always want to make a statement with everything, right? But to do it just for the pure joy it brings. Or maybe that’s the whole meaning behind it? Or does it make me pretentious? Then again, is it really so bad to be pretentious?
a perspective on sonder
Sometimes, I wonder how one can be so close-minded. Selfish, even. Basking in the dying light of a summer evening, letting it wash over my face, I silently watch as one of my friends swats mindlessly at a small fly. It's small, harmless, but they smack it down without a second thought, and I can't help but wonder if that fly had a little family somewhere out there, waiting for it. A thought pops up in my bored mind: is this fly, probably not even able to fully grasp the concept of being alive let alone other living beings, even really conscious? My brows furrow when my companion kills it in one quick motion. It might be pretentious of me, yeah, sure. It's not like I've never done the same, but I do, just for a moment, feel sorry for the little life. Had its crime been invading personal space, or, as so many artificially empathetic ones have said before me, was it being small?
A campfire crackles in the distance with the people who lit it chatting cheerfully, sat around it. Slowly, I descend into the wild grass, stretching into it and feeling every little blade on my skin. What do I gain, pretending I care? Seeing beautiful, tall flowers freshly cut down by machinery, wondering whether they had wanted to keep on living for a reason other than pure instinct. They might not even have that, do they? I deeply mourn the loss of something unfamiliar, a stranger; something people consider a weed. So should I, and yet I don't. Maybe I do it to feel morally superior. Maybe I just want to elevate myself from the rest, pretend like I am in any way better. Neither of those reasons makes me any less selfish than my peers, whom I condescendingly looked down upon; rendering me the very person I tried so desperately not to be.
It is strange to think about the fact the lives not so far from mine can be so, so different. Really, it is pretty obvious, and yet I vividly remember seeing my neighbour in some odd place, breaking my perception of them as just my neighbour, something out of my field of vision, completely, forcing me to realize that they're so much more, have an own life, an own soul. A person that probably sees me as just their neighbour, like I did moments ago. It is apparent and logical, and yet I was, embarrassingly enough, never really aware of it. Sighing, I rise to my feet, grazing carefully on the lawn. The warm, salty breeze flows over from the sea and fills my lungs.. Soft waves crashing on the shore, I look over to my fellow sheep again, tormenting and being tormented by flies again.
And I wonder if humans would ever understand.
I agree with the guy on the bottom. The guy who made that tweet seems to be very pretentious and quick to judge.
indeed.
"What is this, the Titanic? 1912 called; it wants its crappy wine back, so it can sink to the bottom of the ocean, where it belongs..."