
The following is transcribed from this video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENK39wVPWFs
The origins appear to be a 4chan greentext from way back when.
---
I know you.
You were different. You couldn't talk to them very well; words didn't seem to work. They lied when they came out of your mouth. You tried so hard to understand "them." You wanted to be part of what was happening. You saw "them" having fun, and it seemed like such a mystery, almost magic. It made you think that there was something wrong with you. You'd look in the mirror and try to find it. You thought you were strange, and everyone was looking at you. So, you began to learn to be invisible, to look down, to avoid conversation. The hours, days, the weekends—ah! The weekend nights alone. Where were you? In the basement? In the attic? In your room? Working some job you hated just to have something to do? Just to have a place to put yourself? Just to have a way to get away from "them," a chance to get away from the ones who made you feel so strange and ill-at-ease inside yourself?
Yeah, I think I know you.
You spend a lot of time full of hate—a hate that was pure sunshine, a hate that saw for miles, a hate that kept you up at night, a hate that filled your every waking moment, a hate that carried you for a long time.
Yeah! I think I know you.
You couldn't figure out what "they" saw in the way "they" lived. Home was not home. Your room was home. A corner was home. The place that "they" weren't - that was home.
I know you.
You're sensitive, and you hide it because you fear getting stepped on one more time. It seems that when you show a part of yourself that is the least bit vulnerable, someone takes advantage of it. One of "them" steps on you; "they" mistake kindliness for weakness, but you know the difference. You've been the brunt of "their" weakness for years, and strength is something you know a bit about because you had to be strong to keep yourself alive. You know yourself very well now, and you don't trust people because you know "them" too well. You try to find that special person, someone you can be with, someone you can touch, someone you can talk to, someone you don't feel so strange around, and you find that they don't really exist. You feel closer to people on movie screens.
Yeah... I think I know you.
You spend a lot of time daydreaming, and people have made comments to that effect. Telling you, "You are self-involved," that, "You are a shut-in and self-centered," as if "they" aren't the reason why you are this way. As if "they" are not the one who brutalized your vulnerability. That you're self-centered, but "they" don't know you, do they? "They" don't know about the nightshifts alone, about the years of keeping yourself company, the hours and hours of indecision, of self-doubt, the intense depression, the blinding hate, the rage that made you stagger, the devastation of being a failure. Well, maybe "they" do know you, but if they do, they sure do a good job of hiding it. Or not caring. It astounds you how "they" can be so smooth, how "they" seem to pass through life as though life itself is some divine gift, and it infuriates you to watch yourself with your apparent "skill" at finding every possible way to screw things up. So for you, life is a long trip - it's terrifying, but it can be wonderful. Because the birds sing to you at night, the rain and the sun and the changing seasons are your true friends. They're not going anywhere. Your solitude is a hard-won ally, faithful and patient.
Yeah. I think I know you.
---
Essentially a redo of this piece from 2015:
https://www.deviantart.com/fox-fire.....Am-I-515925897
Check out the high-res photo here:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/QQx12UX9bAGGuP71A
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENK39wVPWFs
The origins appear to be a 4chan greentext from way back when.
---
I know you.
You were different. You couldn't talk to them very well; words didn't seem to work. They lied when they came out of your mouth. You tried so hard to understand "them." You wanted to be part of what was happening. You saw "them" having fun, and it seemed like such a mystery, almost magic. It made you think that there was something wrong with you. You'd look in the mirror and try to find it. You thought you were strange, and everyone was looking at you. So, you began to learn to be invisible, to look down, to avoid conversation. The hours, days, the weekends—ah! The weekend nights alone. Where were you? In the basement? In the attic? In your room? Working some job you hated just to have something to do? Just to have a place to put yourself? Just to have a way to get away from "them," a chance to get away from the ones who made you feel so strange and ill-at-ease inside yourself?
Yeah, I think I know you.
You spend a lot of time full of hate—a hate that was pure sunshine, a hate that saw for miles, a hate that kept you up at night, a hate that filled your every waking moment, a hate that carried you for a long time.
Yeah! I think I know you.
You couldn't figure out what "they" saw in the way "they" lived. Home was not home. Your room was home. A corner was home. The place that "they" weren't - that was home.
I know you.
You're sensitive, and you hide it because you fear getting stepped on one more time. It seems that when you show a part of yourself that is the least bit vulnerable, someone takes advantage of it. One of "them" steps on you; "they" mistake kindliness for weakness, but you know the difference. You've been the brunt of "their" weakness for years, and strength is something you know a bit about because you had to be strong to keep yourself alive. You know yourself very well now, and you don't trust people because you know "them" too well. You try to find that special person, someone you can be with, someone you can touch, someone you can talk to, someone you don't feel so strange around, and you find that they don't really exist. You feel closer to people on movie screens.
Yeah... I think I know you.
You spend a lot of time daydreaming, and people have made comments to that effect. Telling you, "You are self-involved," that, "You are a shut-in and self-centered," as if "they" aren't the reason why you are this way. As if "they" are not the one who brutalized your vulnerability. That you're self-centered, but "they" don't know you, do they? "They" don't know about the nightshifts alone, about the years of keeping yourself company, the hours and hours of indecision, of self-doubt, the intense depression, the blinding hate, the rage that made you stagger, the devastation of being a failure. Well, maybe "they" do know you, but if they do, they sure do a good job of hiding it. Or not caring. It astounds you how "they" can be so smooth, how "they" seem to pass through life as though life itself is some divine gift, and it infuriates you to watch yourself with your apparent "skill" at finding every possible way to screw things up. So for you, life is a long trip - it's terrifying, but it can be wonderful. Because the birds sing to you at night, the rain and the sun and the changing seasons are your true friends. They're not going anywhere. Your solitude is a hard-won ally, faithful and patient.
Yeah. I think I know you.
---
Essentially a redo of this piece from 2015:
https://www.deviantart.com/fox-fire.....Am-I-515925897
Check out the high-res photo here:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/QQx12UX9bAGGuP71A
Category Artwork (Digital) / Miscellaneous
Species Fox (Other)
Size 1253 x 939px
File Size 180.9 kB
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