I need an intellectual orgasm

Hunger arrives before speech. Longing before knowledge. And I've always felt like a fawn leaning toward warmth with a body that still mistakes trembling for movement,but it aint cute its desperate nd ugly af

getting myself an academic rival will make my life so much bubbly

Its fine to settle for second best, right? (unforgivable)

quarter life crisis?

Your mom was right it's the freaking phone

Okay, this is finally up.

Not a men vs women thing, not a lecture. A lot of us live in a bubble, tech, creative, liberal spaces, where things look fine for women, but there's a mindset that follows us out of it and into our own heads. I wrote a piece to show what it's actually like to move through the world as a woman, so you feel it instead of being argued at. Including what the "man-hater" is really reacting to, because it isn't hate, even when it sounds like it.

Please read the whole thing, it's one picture, and the pieces only add up together. Half of it out of context reads wrong.

If you've ever been confused why women say it's still not okay when it looks fine to you, this is the walk-through.

https://frostysiren.substack.com/p/on-being-seen?r=8ulkmq

And if it resonates, share it with anyone you think it might reach, women who'll feel seen, and men who genuinely want to understand

losing the right to be a victim in my own life cuz I'm too self-aware

If I run into another group of teenage boys speaking hood in public, I’m gonna use my knife

Fake ass communist i saw you with an iPhone

"Bro called it communism because ‘I’m broke’ didn’t sound politically sophisticated enough." me questioning if I truly discovered Marx before or after my card declined 😭

the type of person who will for sure stalk the music you listen to and try to figure out how you see everything based on the lyrics

I've a habit of calling ppl "you unsure thing" as an endearment

can you match my yearn?

come over and get nonverbal with me. Because that's my love language

Sometimes you should convince your ego to be comfortable with the reality that you ain't unique in any way. Relay to it that it consumes from the very common menu, and fart the same

I’m, in fact, a remarkably good bullshitter. I can walk into a conversation knowing approximately two lines, three cues, and a vague understanding of what the subject is supposed to be, and somehow emerge looking like I personally wrote the textbook.

The trick isn’t actually knowing shit. It’s knowing 'just enough about what you don’t know' to avoid stepping directly into it.

I’ll catch a few keywords, remember one suspiciously specific fact, connect it to something vaguely related, and suddenly I’m speaking with the confidence of who has spent the last six months conducting field research. Meanwhile, internally, I’m basically running on a loading screen.

And the funniest part is that the more aware I am of my own bullshit, the better I become at selling it. I know exactly where my knowledge ends, so I simply stop walking there. I stay comfortably within the little territory I understand, decorate the borders with confidence, throw in a few thoughtful pauses, and let everyone else assume there’s a vast intellectual empire behind it.

There probably isn’t.

But they don’t know that.

And apparently, knowing that they don’t know is itself a form of knowing.

So there I am, explaining something I barely understand with the composure of someone who has been personally consulted by the laws of physics, while praying nobody asks the one follow-up question that requires me to actually know what I’m talking about.

Competence, apparently, is sometimes just confidence wearing a convincing disguise.

And mine has excellent posture.

God take my minority status and gift it to middle class white people who want it #please

To have roots—and still possess the courage to pull them from the earth.

Because what is a life, after all, if you remain in the same place merely because you were born there?

And what is freedom if you spend your whole life running simply because you are afraid to stay?

"What if the life I have been given is not the life I was meant to keep?" No, no, there is one person who asks whether meaning was ever there to begin with, and that's Dostoevsky or me, Dad!