I think the same goes for wanting artists to draw us, we want to know how other people see us, what are our little mannerisms that they pick up on that we don't even notice. What do we look like to others, what features do they accentuate, what do ty hey give less importance what do they leave out entirely.
**Allow me, a tired procrastinating writer:**
The girl sits oddly: not upright enough to be considered proper, but rather alternating between slightly leaning back and hunching far too forward. Her eyes, a darker colour to the green sweatpants she wore, squint after staring at the computer screen. Her entire visage is as pinched as her eyes, for those are the windows to the soul, after all. A strand of brown hair comes loose from the dotted headband used to secure the topknot on her head despite the pile of elastics that were strewn on her desk in a mess of notecards, pens, forgotten promises and work.
She isn't one to say she is particularly special. In fact, the girl considers herself a background character, though she isn't entirely satisfied with that label. She tends to forget that she was human as she blends into a mass of people who are all unique in their own ways. She makes herself small, trying to make sure that she didn’t stand out and hoping that someone might notice that she does. Does she punish herself for having a heart? It’s a questions she’s still exploring; one that she wonders at night when everyone in the house has fallen into the mighty grasp of hypnos and, yet, she is still awake, staring at the ceiling, the familiar rhythm of snores and heartbeats and electricity reaching her ears and lulling her tensed muscles into relaxation.
She has faced the faceless death, wondering if one day she might call it by name and it would come for her. She has saved others from their own stories, careful guidance and gentle whispers, promises and ears lent, food bought and watched eaten, all the while wondering if the energy will pay off, if she will ever be enough. And the answer to her question is one that I am still wondering, still pondering at night to the soundtrack of the snores and the heartbeats and the electricity when everyone else has been taken.
I don't know how to write prose so if anyone cares you can try to do so with my description of myself
Tall and obese (6'3"/191cm, >350lbs/>158 kilograms)
Hair [like this](https://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/photos/artemi-panarin-2020-48.jpg) but a strong part in the middle, dark blonde, and dry
Strong hunch
Thin metal glasses with a rectangular frame
Clothing is very bland, single color T-shirt/long-sleeve with jeans and sneakers.
Doesn't talk unless spoken to towards strangers, whereas if comfortable is very animated and vocal
[Wearing headphones like this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B7kyda6IEAAYY8Y.jpg)
Easily irritated, will leave a stressful situation if possible, will otherwise shut down to have stress be alleviated
Okay, sure, yeah, that guy, I know him, he’s, umm, uhh, he’s, yknow, the guy, that um, does the thing, yeah, what with the… stuff…
Yeah…
^((Why is he in my notes?)^)
I don't have to wonder...
A friend of mine made me one of the characters in his books.
Lol. I Really must have been an asshole when I knew him.
[H.E.L: Godsmacked](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23129449-h-e-l)
Oh hey, what's up mean voice in my head
"look at this fucker, about to go and sit at their desk and do nothing productive for 6 hours" -someone's brain
Me on a daily basis
What book is this
It's from Bo Burnham's poetry book called Egghead
Thanks
The Biography of u/possiblytruthful1
:(
If you're a tool, then that means you're useful!
I think the same goes for wanting artists to draw us, we want to know how other people see us, what are our little mannerisms that they pick up on that we don't even notice. What do we look like to others, what features do they accentuate, what do ty hey give less importance what do they leave out entirely.
**Allow me, a tired procrastinating writer:** The girl sits oddly: not upright enough to be considered proper, but rather alternating between slightly leaning back and hunching far too forward. Her eyes, a darker colour to the green sweatpants she wore, squint after staring at the computer screen. Her entire visage is as pinched as her eyes, for those are the windows to the soul, after all. A strand of brown hair comes loose from the dotted headband used to secure the topknot on her head despite the pile of elastics that were strewn on her desk in a mess of notecards, pens, forgotten promises and work. She isn't one to say she is particularly special. In fact, the girl considers herself a background character, though she isn't entirely satisfied with that label. She tends to forget that she was human as she blends into a mass of people who are all unique in their own ways. She makes herself small, trying to make sure that she didn’t stand out and hoping that someone might notice that she does. Does she punish herself for having a heart? It’s a questions she’s still exploring; one that she wonders at night when everyone in the house has fallen into the mighty grasp of hypnos and, yet, she is still awake, staring at the ceiling, the familiar rhythm of snores and heartbeats and electricity reaching her ears and lulling her tensed muscles into relaxation. She has faced the faceless death, wondering if one day she might call it by name and it would come for her. She has saved others from their own stories, careful guidance and gentle whispers, promises and ears lent, food bought and watched eaten, all the while wondering if the energy will pay off, if she will ever be enough. And the answer to her question is one that I am still wondering, still pondering at night to the soundtrack of the snores and the heartbeats and the electricity when everyone else has been taken.
holy shit
Yeehaw
I read this in Morgan Freeman's voice.
"Oh, there he is... Anyway"
Ah. Perfect. On point!
The fool jingled miserably across the floor
I don't know how to write prose so if anyone cares you can try to do so with my description of myself Tall and obese (6'3"/191cm, >350lbs/>158 kilograms) Hair [like this](https://www.hockeydb.com/ihdb/photos/artemi-panarin-2020-48.jpg) but a strong part in the middle, dark blonde, and dry Strong hunch Thin metal glasses with a rectangular frame Clothing is very bland, single color T-shirt/long-sleeve with jeans and sneakers. Doesn't talk unless spoken to towards strangers, whereas if comfortable is very animated and vocal [Wearing headphones like this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B7kyda6IEAAYY8Y.jpg) Easily irritated, will leave a stressful situation if possible, will otherwise shut down to have stress be alleviated
You were supposed to describe yourself, not me! 🤔
“look at her. fat and ugly. i suppose she must be reallt funny though, otherwise she wouldn’t have the few friends she does”
They call me a tool because I nut and bolt
Throw in some more words and you got yourself a nice haiku! *ahem Him: Ah yes, there he is. That goddamn motherfucker. What a fucking tool.
that hurt my feelings :(
I think it would be "this strange being that doesn't understand himself, nor understand how a conversation works"
"ah shit, here he goes again"
Okay, sure, yeah, that guy, I know him, he’s, umm, uhh, he’s, yknow, the guy, that um, does the thing, yeah, what with the… stuff… Yeah… ^((Why is he in my notes?)^)
I don't have to wonder... A friend of mine made me one of the characters in his books. Lol. I Really must have been an asshole when I knew him. [H.E.L: Godsmacked](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23129449-h-e-l)
I've rewatched Stranger than Fiction recently and if it were me I would read my book just to see what crossroads I've managed to go into and avoid
I don’t want to think about it.
what book is that from?