She Nothing On My Nothing Til I Nothing. Celibacy

I feel like the way I look causes people to take me less seriously

on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart

@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown

feeling like people do not like me as much i as i think they do

i know if you don’t like yourself is manifests and blah blah blah

but it just kind of feels like my self hatred is a stab wound and i can’t stop the bleeding and everyone around me has to wipe up the blood and i just watch as it stains their clothes and it feels like i’m frozen

whatever i don’t know i’m sure it’s not nowhere near as deep as i’m making it

i just wish i wasn’t the one initiating almost everything in my relationships

who else up decaying

when sylvia plath said, “i need a father, i need a mother, i need some older wiser being to talk to. i talk to god but the sky is empty.” and when oscar wilde said, “a burnt child loves the fire.” and when frank bidart said, “memory is punishment.” and when

I think sometimes we become blind to the love we so desperately crave when it doesn’t come from the place we want it to.

The love was there, and is there, you just have to look beyond your desired horizon.

pretty odd my beloved

Go on, grab your hat and fetch a camera

Go on, film the world before it happens

I listened to pretty odd on repeat the other day while studying, woke up this morning to see panic had replaced LANA DEL REY as my second most streamed artist.

Pretty Odd and A fever are two of the most amazingly crafted pieces of art on this earth.

What have I become

Sometimes, all we really need is to be heard without having to fight for it.

I brought up how I felt—disconnected, unsure, a little tired of carrying the weight of unspoken things. And for once, I wasn’t met with defensiveness or silence. I was met with understanding. With effort. With a gentle “let’s fix this.”

It reminded me that love shouldn’t feel like walking on eggshells. It shouldn’t leave you questioning your worth or your voice. Sometimes, the simplest conversations can feel like healing.

I’m learning that being heard without having to explain myself twice is a kind of love I didn’t know I needed. I don’t need perfect. I just need real.

Tried to make a post about how much Christmas sucks, but it was mostly incoherent, so instead I’ll post the cliff notes version:

Having no parents on Christmas sucks. Having PTSD on Christmas sucks. Living with my aunt and uncle who make me feel on edge all the time because of how unpredictable their tempers are sucks. Spending Christmas with them sucks even more.