Rb To Have A Very Aspec 2025

I thought of this and now I’m sharing with you.

Written from Remus’ pov but can be put to whoever you want

He didn’t remember when he stopped looking both ways before crossing the road, when he stopped worrying abt being on the wrong side of town late at night, when he had started drinking too much or when he stopped being careful when using a knife to cut up the veg. He didn’t remember when he stopped caring about himself.

toph, my girl!

don't ever look up what your childhood friends are up to now!!!!!!!!!! like girl you're a nuclear safety engineer. i put on matching socks today. we played tag a thousand years ago.

this is great rule but i sleep in till 3 so i only have an hour every day to comprehend anything worth while about my life. great

"never trust how you feel abt ur life after 9pm" is a spring & summer & fall rule. for winter it's never trust how u feel abt ur life after 4pm

i think little sisters should be allowed to be annoying thats what i think

ok im writing something for moony’s birthday in two days but my laptop has a virus so it might be late 😫i’m sorryyyyyy

pro but only if its after you finish cereal and slurp it up like left over soup even tho cereals a fucking chowder

are y’all pro or anti drinking milk

Aro culture is a slow journey of finding your own peace.

Signed, an older aro

<2

being on the aro spectrum would be a lot easier if being single wasn’t made to feel like a literal death sentence

Your jumper

So I know I haven't posted anything for a while, I've been a bit busy with Uni work to write anything new. However, I have had some creative writing assignments and created some OC's. I was quite proud of this assignment I did and I'm currently working on another one. TW: talks of suicide, suicide of a family member and self harm scars.

I’m wearing your jumper. The one you left on my doorknob that morning. The creak of floorboards woke me up, but I turned over and dove back into a dream. It’s weird knowing that the last time I saw you it was a shadow slinking down the stairs and not you jumping on my bed to tell me about the book you’ve been reading or smiling after you beat me at cards. Your jumper stills smells of lavender and sea salt and the sand won’t leave the crevice’s of your pocket, like you won’t leave the crevices of my brain. I want to scrub you out, get a scourer on all the grooves and maybe it’ll hurt less. Scrubbing every memory of you every thought you gave me, every lesson. Losing my brain rather than losing you. I want to forget all the stories you told me to get me to sleep, I want to forget the nights we stayed up star gazing, I want to forget that you never lived outside of this hoodie, but you left it that night.

The sun rose again, the birds sang once more, and the waves continued to crash against the rocks. The sky was painted with pink and orange hues that night, tonight the sky was stained purple as it gave way to bright glistening stars. The hunter, Orion waves his club, the Pegasus spreads its wings proudly, Cassiopeia clutches to the north pole in an effort not to fall off her throne. I hope one day you find your way to the stars; I can look up at you and tell your story like you used to tell me theirs.  The world kept spinning and the stars still shone in the sky everything kept moving. I had to keep moving too. I’m getting up, I’m listening to the birds singing, I’m watching the sun rise and set with each new day. I’m watching the moon go through her cycle her silver face turned to me and her amber smile comforting me the way you used to. She is reflected in the water that you greeted as an old friend; you threw open your arms as the waves did too.

The scars you left on your arms, your thighs, your face. I wonder if they stung when you hit the sea spray. The white lines dig in and create grooves in your skin like a record player going round, playing the same song over and over. Your life plays out in my head and the record goes round on the turn table. It’s your favourite, the one you barely let me touch for fear of breaking it. Funny that a song meant more to you than your own life. Although lots of things meant more to you than yourself. Your skin and blood a sacrifice, it drips, drips, drips. You didn’t care about yourself, your life, your blood, your soul. You cared about me though. That why you left me your jumper, right?