Dear diary: Monday was a bad day, today was a bad day.
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Not today Justin
EXPECTATIONS
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

#extradirty

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NASA

roma★

Game Changer & Make Some Noise
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art blog(derogatory)

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@anytimedreamer
Dear diary: Monday was a bad day, today was a bad day.

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i have always just wanted to mean so much to someone..
Spending money I don't have so that I can feel something: a memoir.
Please don’t leave me alone with my thoughts.
Let it be known that on this day, when I thought I looked like absolute garbage, a very nice older lady came up to me and told me I was stunning.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
My head hurts.
When you have so many scars, what’s one more?
My mind (via just-a-lady-1998)
Everything
I wish I was beautiful.
Trying to plan things in the future so I have something to look forward to.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I like my hair length now. I’m tired of everyone telling me to grow it out.
Sometimes self-care is simply brushing your teeth and washing your face even though you didn’t feel like it.
[mixedwithrain -> anytimedreamer]
So much time has passed, but my thoughts are still blue.
The best poem it seems to me are written out of an ultimate need.
Charles Bukowski (via quotemadness)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I used to write. I used to write every day; sometimes multiple times a day. I wrote in a notebook. God, I loved that notebook; I still have it.
But I can’t write in it. I can barely manage to look through it.
It was defiled. Scanned by eyes that weren’t mine. Read without my permission by someone close enough to ask for it. The only safe space for my thoughts had been infiltrated.
I stopped writing in it. I stopped writing altogether.
Something had been taken from me. It seems as though I haven’t been able to get it back.
I barely understand myself so I know no one could ever understand me.