♫⃠ SHITMILK ⌖

About me:

I’m SHITMILK (SHIT for short), yes in all caps. Boy-adjacent. I don’t use pronouns, however, if you absolutely, positively, desperately need to refer to me with pronouns, either use he/him strictly or he/they interchangeably. I am not particularly interested in making this more complicated than it needs to be.
Native Greek speaker. Far-right eco-authoritarian nationalist meshuggeneh (ᛉ141ᛉ). Future Freemason & Elk. Maybe I’ll join the IOOF and Knights of Pythias too. I promise I am normal about Ted Kaczynski. Completely normal. I’m only mildly retarded. I think.
I enjoy trolling. Not because I necessarily believe whatever I’m saying, but because watching people voluntarily tilt at windmills over something they could have simply ignored is occasionally very funny. Sometimes I say things because I mean them, sometimes I say things because I know exactly how someone is going to react, and sometimes the distinction is deliberately unclear. If you find yourself genuinely upset by something I post, that’s probably a good indication that you should step away from whatever device you’re glued to and go about your day. There is no need to work yourself into a lather over something trifling I’ve said, as everything I say is meant to be taken at face value. If you’re unable to distinguish between genuine hostility and me deliberately fucking with you, then that’s quite saddening. I have no interest in turning every joke into a moral referendum, nor do I have the moral obligation to quit because you didn’t enjoy being the punchline. Take the bait if you want; just don't complain to me afterward that you got caught hook, line, and sinker.
I refuse to perform a sanitized version of myself for the powers that be. I have an extremely black sense of humor, and I make very little effort to disguise it. There is a mighty fine line between dark humor and black humor, and I have blurred that line significantly. I am not interested in explaining every joke I make, nor am I interested in pretending that everything I find funny is morally or socially acceptable. I have a filter, I just deliberately choose not to use it. Ever.
Every standard I hold myself to, I hold other people to as well. This includes the completely reasonable standards, the unreasonable standards, and the standards that probably should not exist in the first place. I don’t expect people to be perfect, because I certainly am not, but I do expect consistency. If I can reasonably demand something of myself, I can reasonably demand it of you. If the standard is absurdly high to you, then I am also expected to clear it. I’m not interested in a double standard where I get to excuse my own shortcomings while treating everyone else’s as totally unforgivable and irredeemable. Whatever bar I set for myself is the bar you are standing beneath too. Whether you can reach it is, unfortunately, between you and God.

I disappear sometimes. This is not necessarily an indication that I hate you, that I’m dead, that I’ve joined a monastery, or that I’ve finally been shipped off to the loony bin. I probably just got bored, dissociated, forgot to check the website, or became deeply invested in something nobody else has the passion for (I have a tendency to become intensely interested in extremely obscure things for reasons that probably make sense exclusively to me). If I post a vaguely concerning bulletin, disappear for a year and a half, then shitpost like nothing happened, then mind your fucking business.
Stay at least 10 feet away from me at all times, I promise I do not want to be your friend. I don’t particularly enjoy oversharing, forced positivity, corporate internet etiquette, excessive small talk, or people who treat every interaction like the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Not every conversation needs to become a friendship. Not every friendship needs to become a daily correspondence. We can coexist peacefully without pretending we are destined to become best friends because we exchanged three messages. Sometimes two people can simply exchange a funny image, say something incomprehensible to each other, and go back to their respective corners of the internet. I think that is quite beautiful, don’t you?
My IMs are closed most of the time—aside from friends I give the greenlight to—and for the love of God, please respect that. The only true exception is if you’re sharing your bonafides before adding me. By “bonafides”, I mean give me some indication that you are actually worth conversing with. Tell me who you are, what you do, what you’re into, why you’re on my profile, or some other evidence that you are not going to open with “hey :3” and expect me to conjure up a conversation based off of that alone. I’m not asking for a résumé, a blood sample, or three letters of recommendation from reputable institutions. Just give me something to work with. I’m much more receptive to someone who arrives with an introduction than someone who materializes in my inbox with one word and absolutely nothing else, and I simply want to know that there is an actual person behind the friend request and that you have at least some undeerstanding of what you’re getting yourself into. A little introduction goes a long way. If your entire introduction is simply a stiff “hey”, or “hi wyd”, I’m just gonna let your friend request marinate in my notifs.
I’m not interested in accepting random friend requests from accounts with a Hazbin Hotel profile picture and a shitty illegible typing quirk whose entire personality consists of  “hehe silly cars go brrrrr weeee helicopter hands :3” retard humor. Consider this the internet equivalent of showing your papers at the border. If your credentials check out, perhaps I will let you through. If they don’t? Deportation.
Other than that, do not IM me. I will smite you with the power of 1000 suns by the claymore that was bestowed upon me by God himself. Please do not test the limits of divine intervention.
I keep a relatively small friends list and low online presence because I am an adult with zero care for anyone online. I have other things to do, bitches to fuck, and places to be. I’m not obligated to be available, interesting, sociable, or constantly posting. Sometimes I’m here. Sometimes I’m not. I like curating my own little corner of the internet, especially because modern social media is quite sterile. I decorate it because I can. I write things because I feel like it. I disappear because I like to touch grass. I come back because I miss the few people I actually enjoy interacting with. I will reappear when I reappear. There is no timetable. There is no grand narrative behind any of this.
That being said, I’m not actually angry all the time. Most of the time, I’m just sitting somewhere staring at a screen with the expression of a Victorian child who has just been informed that the coal mine that their father was sent to work in has collapsed. My hostility is largely recreational. Please don’t interpret my general lack of enthusiasm and selective empathy as some kind of personal attack. Sometimes I simply have nothing to say. Silence is not a true micro-aggression, so don’t treat it as such.

I’m unfortunately an adult (18), so I ask that you be 16+ if you intend to try to add me. This is not some grand moral decree handed down from the heavens; it is simply the boundary I am comfortable with at the moment, and it is subject to change as I get older. Time moves forward despite my constant objections (tragic, I know). I refuse to permanently remain the same age just to accommodate somebody else’s preferred demographic, so check back occasionally if you are particularly concerned about the exact number. I can tell when someone’s lying about their age too, so don’t even think about trying that shit with me. If you’re under the minimum age, do not try to negotiate with me. Them’s the breaks, yo. I don’t care if you are “mature” for a 13-year-old, in fact, that is a terrible mindset to have.

Follow your own DNI. Who you choose to interact with is your prerogative, and frankly, I couldn’t care less. If I’m on your DNI, cool. You’ve come across a person you don’t wish to interact with; the obvious next course of action is not interacting at all. I’m not going to chase you down, beg for an exception, perform the bureaucratic ritual of explaining why you’re actually supposed to like me, or curate my existence around your boundaries. Interact at your own risk, use your own judgement, and accept that your experience of me is ultimately your responsibility. I’m not responsible for what you expected to see here vs what’s actually here, and I’m not going to hold your hand through the consequences of your own decisions. God gave you a moral compass and a block button for a reason, so exercise whatever intuition you feel you possess and act accordingly.
Nobody on the internet knows that you are a dog. Keep that in mind. I don’t know who you are, what you look like, what your purpose is, or whether there is genuinely a human being operating the keyboard on the other end of the screen, and vice-versa. Neither of us has any obligation to pretend otherwise. You could be a perfectly ordinary person. You could be three raccoons in a trench coat. A profile picture, a username, and a few paragraphs of text are not a substitute for actually knowing somebody. I am perfectly happy to enjoy someone’s company online without constructing an elaborate fictional biography for them in my head. Assume everyone is a stranger until proven otherwise. For all I know, you are a dog operating a computer with suspiciously good typing skills. I have no way of disproving this. Consequently, I am going to treat you like a stranger on the internet until you give me a reason not to.