I CANT BELIEVE THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS IS STILL BLEEDING

Cut out the pain and pull out its insides. When you know what it's made of, you'll know how to kill it.

Beware, not all pain is an enemy.

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

Let's whisper secrets under the moon bridge🤭

㋡🥀

moon bridge in china.

If the fantasy book I'm reading doesn't have a super ominous and quite foggy forest of impending doom, I don't want it

I want to be a kitten on someone's lap and keep them immobilized for hours.

That is all.

As you were, peasant. *shoos you away*

I miss you. I miss the feel of your hair through my fingers and the way you'd sigh and relax into my touch. I miss the random song quotes that are always somehow absolutely perfect for the situation. I miss when you'd laugh like a child. I miss calling you at midnight. I miss how your voice would soften up, just for me. I miss when you'd hug me, then hug me tighter. Like nothing in the world could take me away. Why'd you let me go away? I miss you. Whyd you say those hurtful things to me? Why do you never understand. I love you, and I know you love me. But why are we always mismatched puzzle pieces?

I hate that I'm hurting you. I hate the thought of you lying in someone else's lap. But I can't be there for you like I want to because it will rip me apart.

I don't want anyone else to touch me. Their fingers feel clammy on my skin. And when I see brown eyes in sunlight all I think about is you. How could I kiss someone with your name on my lips? That would be a crime. And yet I want someone to press my body against a wall and cover up your fingerprints with theirs and kiss me so hard I forget everything about kissing you and remember everything about myself. I want to remember how to move toward someone else's warmth. I want to learn how to love you from a distance. How to say "happy birthday." Not "get in your car and come back to me."

I want to see your new girl and be happy for you. I want you to get a new girl. I want you to let me go. Even though it hurts. I want you to be happy without me. Even though that's sort of a lie. I want you to come pick me up and take me home. I want you to mark me and call me yours and tuck me in and sleep on my chest with my fingers in your hair. I want you to sigh and relax into my touch.

But we are still mismatched puzzle pieces.

Your bones carry the past and the future. Your soul is beyond time. Knowledge and love exist beyond time. If you feel heavy it is because you are carrying generations of memories and endless possibilities.

Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.

Life is a gift. Don't slap away her outstretched hand. Show that you are grateful by being kind and gentle.

Why so often must

"deserving"

be used as a cudgel we wield, blunt and unwieldy, against our own hearts?

No one "deserves" anything --

The world just is, and things just are.

If it is offered and you wish for it? Take.

If you desire to give it, then offer it without fear --

You are valid simply for being --

Worthy of being seen as who you are --

Maybe it's alright to reach out for the things that you desire,

without forcing your way into guilt for things you have not done and have not yet happened --

Maybe it's alright to just be.

"affirmation to self, letter to a friend." V. Rue, 2025.

It would have been better if I had never met him at all.

But, I am glad that you hurt me

first.

Your cut was deep and gentle. He planted the jagged branch of a tree inside the wound and twisted it to a fro. I did not scream. I remembered the way you cut me open, and I smiled. At least your hands were warm.

I would have taken 6 more gashes from your blade instead of the agony with which he wracked my small frame.

You kissed me under candlelight, deliberate and slow. He kissed me under a fool's moon, and when I hugged him, he let go

first.

Intriguing...

Have any nightmares lately?

This figurine represents the Baku (獏 or 貘). The baku’s story originated in Chinese mythology as the mo (貘), believed to resemble a giant panda. It later evolved into a nightmare-warding figure in Japan.

Early depictions illustrate the baku as a chimera with the trunk and tusks of an elephant, the ears of a rhinoceros, the tail of a cow, the body of a bear, and the paws of a tiger. While this version was said to ward off pestilence and evil, its dream-devouring ability emerged later in Japanese culture. By the late 18th century, the baku as known as the guardian of sleep. One legend describes how a child waking from a bad dream could call out, “Baku-san, come eat my dream,” repeating it three times to summon the baku.

Folklore warns that calling the baku too often could have consequences—if left unsatisfied, it might consume not just bad dreams but also the person’s hopes and desires.

Image: Baku, Mythical Animal. 18th century. White porcelain (Hirado ware), H. 7/8 in. (2.2 cm); L. 1 7/8 in. (4.8 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I have made no sin in loving. I have made no sin in caring for the wellbeing of others. For believing in a better future. For hoping and striving to do better, even if no one else cares. Even if everyone else is doing the wrong thing, it doesn't make it right.

I have decided to reject the coldness of the world no matter what.

And if i die from loving, I would have died at the hands of something beautiful.

Goodbye Isha, we carry you with us.