Sometimes Life Feels Just Terrible And That's How I Am Tried To Get Over It Today

I don't feel like I exist in reality if no one notices me. But relying on people's approval is never a good idea.

post-post clarity when you're looking at your post on the dash like who gives a fuck. delete

sometimes i just sit and think. wow i should end my life

Michael Cunningham, "The Hours" // Anne Sexton, "The Touch" // Charles M. Schulz, Peanuts and Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me—The Smiths // F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night // Kelsey Landsgaard, A Soft Wrongness // J. D. McClatchy, "THE DIALOGUE OF DESIRE AND GUILT" // Marina Tsvetaeva, from notes // Yves Olade, Belovéd

No one is more disappointed in me than I am.

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

plz let me grind on you while we make out :3

💗💗💗🫂

I’m hoping for an outcome like this :)

they tell you about school and they tell you about work and they tell you about taxes and responsibilities and ideals you have to reach. they don’t tell you about baking chocolate cookies from scratch at the ungodly hours of 11 at night and sitting on your kitchen floor while watching a home decor competition show while you get to munch on a cookie that tastes like the hot chocolate you used to make when you needed a reason to live as a teenager. they don’t tell you about getting to eat another cookie while you think about capturing this moment in a mason jar and shipping it through time to your younger self who gets scared so easily by school and work and taxes and responsibilities and ideals. your younger self who wonders if there’s still comfort, still good things, and if you get to claim them for yourself at some point or if comfort is always a question of dependence. they don’t tell you about that, when for years we do nothing but dream about moments like these

trying not to get attached

I’m so fucking horny right now, god please I need hot and weird transgender sex rn or I might actually die