Related Recs

⭐

insecurity, we all have it. some of us are just dating it

i didn't think they were when we first met. i mean, why would i? they were suave, confident, hot. filled to the brim with sticky hubris and emotion. but everyone has a vice, and the best of people keep theirs well hidden. so i find myself here, the place where all good characters begin-- in love. i definitely wasn't expecting it, but that's another story entirely. i think insecurity is a cautious devil. like the fairy stories i was raised on, it's cunning, a trickster. it masquerades as many things- pride, confidence, and anger being the most prevalent flavors. my lover is none of these things, save maybe a bravado that only comes from finally having the courage to live truly as oneself after years of running. this bravado is enticing, but not necesarily a symptom. perhaps the greater fault is that i am entirely consumed by their personhood. i, like a crocodile on a winters day, bask in the sunlight of their soul. if my limbs were iron i would carve wheels from pure stone and a wagon of aged wood and use it to drag myself to their feet. yet, love is farsighted, and time has revealed the true deliciousness of their personhood rests on the facet that they too, are human. so, we make our bed in the meadows and we fight our battles in the night. i speak more than i listen, they keep feelings like secrets. they shrivel and burrow to avoid, whereas i become louder to confront. our love is indeed an unlikely story. but i like it, and i want to make it. so, i find myself getting quieter, conceeding more. i let them win and ask them to decide. they do, and we fight sometimes. they would rather be disappointed than rejected. god, don't we all. i speak in riddles and they in fact. maybe we are too different but we don't let it deter us, for we are far more the same than we could ever realize. still, when i speak plainly they assume puzzles, when i gently correct they quiver, when i say too much they internalize, communication rought by years of passive agressive parents and partners before me. i, who have known none of this, continue my ramblings, wanting only to share more of myself with my lover. i say the wrong thing. there is no wrong. i say things. they hurt. i don't often mean it the way they take it. their interpretation is a faulty compass that rarely points to true north. sometimes the sheer polarity of their interpretation shocks me. i say i'm tired, they ask if i want them to leave. my direct mind cannot wrap around their curved one. if i wanted them to leave i would have asked. and i would never want such a thing. i say i am scared to become dull. they apologize for ruining me. i ask them what they want, they cannot give an anwer. insecurity is not a trait, it is a tyrant. i see them beneath the ruling scepter but i cannot budge them out from under it. so i try to be gentle. i speak softly. i conceed. i give them exactly what they ask for. i have been trained on what to avoid. i wonder if this training is making me trickier, or more like the partners and parents that made them this way in the first place. i am no saint, i wish i could learn to shut my desperate eager mouth, a chore i have resisted and fought since childhood with the will and stubborness that remains unchanged. still i ache. the constant intent on misunderstanding me ages my soul. i feel the ache begging them from within my loving eyes. "see me as i am, lover," it cries, "please hear me as i am."

@kiwibird4

Jan 13, 2025

🩻

nervous, like a dog

nervous like a dog i lower my head as i come to greet you. i can only actualize through your likeness, through your touch. love me, mother earth, with the gentle hand you give offer your children. love me, please, somebody love me.  nervous, kind of like a dog, i kiss your face. i’ve never been nervous around anyone before, i just was always kind of just nervous around myself. but you but you that’s what i always say: but you, my favorite exception but you make me nervous. i don’t think it’s in a bad way, but rather in a natural way, like a human has ought to be nervous like a dog, cautious and slow, hesitant, but still excited to love, in order to survive. wound up but relaxed. scared but safe. anxious to give. i think that this is the right way to be. to be nervous, to be strung tight, but also to feel electric, to feel in the nerves. kiss my shoulder and i jolt, my back and i squirm, my, well my anything really, and i will lose focus. my electrochemistry, my feel of my own body, my understanding of who i am on a chemical level, is conducted by the girl i am in love with. bring me to life. please, oh please, let me live. breathe into me the words of old lovers and the grins of new faces. let me become divine through your touch. let me become.  to become a lover is to become something outside of yourself. i love vinyl and the soil, and so i will take this love inside of me from the outside world. i love stand up comedy, and so often i will tell a joke like people are watching. to love, and to internalize that love, is to be otherly: to become a mosaic. my body is almagate of record players and alligators and shitty punky bands and ottessa moshfegh novels and that is who i am.  to love is to be.  and i am scared i will never become you. not that i want to be you, but that i want to be like it is nothing but natural to want to become like what you desire, to find her in yourself and suddenly become relieved to be the girl you are, and yet, nervous, like a dog, i greet your towering presence, scared i am not like enough, but beaming with the joy of being loved by the only individual. 

@starbelly

Feb 13, 2025

7

⭐

To binge on Hinge. Please. PLease. please

5’6 19 Melbourne East Asian Drinks sometimes Smokes sometimes   Photo 1: Me, at the beach. Hands shielding my eyes from the Bondi sun. Maroon-stained lips pursed into a slight smile. I’m wearing a black camisole with a lace trim here. Here’s my body. It’s ok right. I’m not flaunting too hard either, its not sterile nor promiscuous. Not prudent nor slutty. Maybe an 8 on a good day.   Prompt 1: Looking for the Q to my Anon.   I’m funny aren’t I. I’m curt, though not really. Get it, get it, get it?   Look Photo 2: Casino If anything, it’s a critique of our opulent hungry society. One more drink, one more bump, one more spin. Jesus Christ you’re so insufferable.   Prompt 2:     Photo 3: Blah, blah, blah Prompt 3: Blah, blah, blah   I hope you want me. I hope you need me. I hope you think that I’m different. Though not that different to be strictly unapproachable. I’m self-aware, I think. I don’t know what I think, I just hope you like me.   I’m commodifying myself to be diced and served in 3 courses. I think about you thinking about me. Gay son or thought daughter. Thought the thot daughter.   I can be the answer to the male loneliness epidemic. I can fix you, make you whole.   You like Kaufman? Pynchon? Haha. You’re such a loser. God, you’re so fucking annoying. God, I need you. Though I can find another one of you in less than 10 swipes.   We’re so different from everyone else, aren’t we. We are just like everyone else. You. Me.   Tu.   Are you scared of silence? Did you feel the temperature dropping 10 degrees when the sun kissed the moon? I’m scared of silence too. Not because I’m such a tortured genius that I’m too small of a vessel to hold all of my erudite neuroticism. Not, really. In fact, I’m more like a birthing mother.   Not much lactation going on. No milk for my baby. My baby who was so snug and warm in my womb of noises. Of Colgate ads and affirmation reels, of the James Joyce that I’ll never finish, of the refrigerator’s vibration of the “I just cleared my to do list but you’re added to it”. The comforting cacophony of nothingness is gone now. Here comes the silence.   I’m worried. I worry you; you worry me. I worry that I’ll never know what the difference between fear and anxiety is.   I’m pressing my nose against the window now; my breath is fogging up everything. I think I see my profile popping up in your discovery page. Like me please. Please. Please. Please.   I don’t know. Maybe I’ll give this sincerity thing a shot.   Words I like: Salacious. It’s scandalous and juicy

@cupofboiledwater

Apr 9, 2024

Top Recs from @steelyfan1998

⭐

reading through all your old recs

sometimes you just need to read some real shit straight from the realest person you know .

@steelyfan1998

Feb 24, 2025

3

🍁

anti-rec: smoking weed

This is a confession post, not a recommendation, not even much of an anti-recommendation. Tbh it reads like a humilation ritual. Honestly just keep scrolling; it's not worth reading. I'm just posting it because I think I had a point when I first started writing this, one which I lost pretty wuickly. But I spent a good couple of minutes typing this all out, so I'll post it anyway. Thank God I'm anon. If you do read it, please forgive me. My friend Tyler brought a joint to the super bowl party last night. He handed it to me & told me about how it had weed diamonds in it while I smoked, he told me that it was some good shit and that I wouldn't have to smoke so much of it since I've got such a low tolerance & all, but I could also smoke as much as I liked, seeing as he had a bunch more & that it was the super bowl & we had a bunch of wings on the way anyway, so might as well smoke some more weed so you know what? yeah, i smoked some more weed since what's the harm anyway it's just weed after all. I've been a mess all day. I've been slow & stupid & disgustingly horny since I woke up this morning; but really honestly since I smoked the weed. If you're one of those types that "actually becomes more functional when you're smoking weed" & that I should "just let people enjoy things" I don't know what to say to you. I'm going to be weird for 4 weeks now and it's all my fault. This happens every time. Even when it doesn't turn me into a non-verbal paranoiac nutcase, even when it's enjoyable to me in that moment-- I become something lower than a beast. I stand over the platter of chicken wings & gorge until I am sick and then I gorge even more. My stomach becomes distended & my face and fingers are covered in thai curry buffalo chicken fat goo. I waddle around & fart & I find this very funny. I confuse the sound of my own voice with that of my younger sisters & this is incredibly disqueting to me. Do I really sound like that? I become a big confused overgrown fat baby. I'm going to be be weird for four weeks now. Slow. I was supposed to meet up with my friends to watch Luka's debut for the Lakers. I'm stitting at my desk typing this up; procrastinating going to the gym (which I can NOT neglect [especially after my evening of spiritual obesity]) & the game starts in 5 minutes. Stupid. Typing out this confession right now is painfully difficult. Every word that I type has the appearance of a whitehead that can't be popped to me. This textbox full of blemishes so infuriatingly, stubbornly, immutably DISGUSTING. I feel sick just reading back what I'm writing here. Once again, if you've made it this far, forgive me. This is a confession, not a recommendation. Disgustingly horny. This one I won't elaborate on. Forgive me. It's not because I smoked weed. The smoking of the weed was just the first movement in a sequence that had already begun before I'd even accepted the joint from Tyler. My own spiritual weakness is the mantle upon which all of these failings hang. I'm not this way because I smoked weed, I'm this way because I'm the type of guy that smokes weed even though I know what it will do to me. There are 999,999,999 other weeds in my life that I am all too willing to permit myself. I haven't eaten anything but bread & butter all day. The lakers game is starting soon. Off to the gym I go.

@steelyfan1998

Feb 11, 2025

21

🪱

Writhing

@steelyfan1998

Mar 4, 2025

4