Someone who recounts the mundane events of their day (or any past normal day) in extensive and specific detail, rarely elevating the emotional delivering of their "story" beyond the slightest hint of anemic charge, while ignoring any attempts by the listeners to stimulate the story by simply returning back to the dull, lumbering recall of their dry, insipid happenings.
Person A: "You speak to Mark recently?"
Person B: "Hell no. He's such a non-stop nothingteller that I blocked his number, moved to a new address, and filed a restraining order against him."
Person A: "You too, eh?"
Person B: "Hell no. He's such a non-stop nothingteller that I blocked his number, moved to a new address, and filed a restraining order against him."
Person A: "You too, eh?"
by Han YoloSwaggins December 10, 2024
Relief at Missing Out
The relief felt after avoiding an undesired event, such as a party, meeting, traffic jam, or disaster. Opposite of FOMO.
The relief felt after avoiding an undesired event, such as a party, meeting, traffic jam, or disaster. Opposite of FOMO.
The RAMO I'm getting from not being invited to that party is pure bliss.
Buses are canceled? RAMO!
Nothing gives you RAMO quite like the day after you quit your shitty job.
Buses are canceled? RAMO!
Nothing gives you RAMO quite like the day after you quit your shitty job.
by Han YoloSwaggins August 06, 2019
by Han YoloSwaggins May 25, 2024
A transient or persistent state of emotional and existential disconnection, marked by a sense of unreality, numbness, and inner disquiet. Often associated with dissociative experiences and a diminished ability to feel emotional meaning, pleasure, or fulfillment. Otherwise know as dissociative dysphoria.
I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the eyes staring back. Not fear—just that cold, distant feeling again. Nexoria.
He was halfway through his favorite song, fingers gliding over the guitar strings like muscle memory. But the warmth never came. Just silence inside, like the music was echoing through someone else’s life. Nexoria had slipped in—uninvited, unnoticed—until all that was left was the motion, and the hollow it couldn’t fill.
He loaded into his favorite game, the one that used to feel like home. But tonight, it was just noise and motion—no joy, no spark. Just the anxiety in his chest, the dryness in his eyes, and the sense of existing through a fog, his connection with the world muddied with static. The nexoria had settled upon him again. Only this time, it was stuck. Like something inside him had quietly come undone.
He was halfway through his favorite song, fingers gliding over the guitar strings like muscle memory. But the warmth never came. Just silence inside, like the music was echoing through someone else’s life. Nexoria had slipped in—uninvited, unnoticed—until all that was left was the motion, and the hollow it couldn’t fill.
He loaded into his favorite game, the one that used to feel like home. But tonight, it was just noise and motion—no joy, no spark. Just the anxiety in his chest, the dryness in his eyes, and the sense of existing through a fog, his connection with the world muddied with static. The nexoria had settled upon him again. Only this time, it was stuck. Like something inside him had quietly come undone.
by Han YoloSwaggins June 22, 2025