Noah Kahan
★
d e v o n
$LAYYYTER
YOU ARE THE REASON
𓃗
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Kiana Khansmith
Sweet Seals For You, Always
EXPECTATIONS
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Phantogram Three
art blog(derogatory)
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
tannertan36
Love Begins
seen from Netherlands
seen from France
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from Uruguay
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Oman
@deterritorializedflesh
none of it even matters im just going to keep making empty threats about killing myself but never going through and continuing to be a miserable piece of shit until a car finally takes me over or i fall of a ledge while drunk . my death will lack as much intention as my will
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 think the way i present myself to my closest friends is extremely embarassing and maybe i should just end it today I just cant take how embarassing every inch of my skin is. ive felt dirty and alien even before i could understand what this feel was, since i was in kindergarten perhaps. you get a little molested and bullied in your most formative years and suddenly suicide before your 19th birthday seems like the solution
feeling too actively suicidal today but choosing life means recognizing no one will save you at times like these because no one is responsible for your life but yourself. there are many uncomfortable truths we have to bear but it still hurts like hell knowing im living because of convenience and fear, not because of an innate compulsion to live. if my mom died today id be fine with killing myself. i only care about the guilt my death would cause on her, no one else.
the world doesnt care about what youre going through, what matters is that you have a reason to live. i havent found my reason yet, i mistakenly thought it was the people i love and long for but its apparent that i place too much faith on people who wouldnt actually show up for me when im suffering the most. i shouldnt expect them to however. its not like theyre qualified to help. but sometimes i wish someone would shake me and tell me to live and force me to do so and id be able to forgo my thoughts entirely. i wish it were that easy
what are you doing here?
nothing, just looking at the bugs again. do you ever seem to notice where they go with all that food they carry? ive been meaning to follow them, but i always forget.
come inside, food is ready.
? i haven't ate a homecooked meal in years. my mom is too busy to do that now.
it will be on the counter for you.
>>i stare at her back as she walks back into the apartment. im not sure who she is anymore, or how old i am. i slouch as the ants make themselves busy. they all help one another in perpetual motion. never do they pause to think, 'is this it'?
>>except one of them did. it stopped and looked up at me, it's little hands moving about. as if signaling me to come closer. so i did.
>>i got down real close, careful not to press my hands onto it's little friends and family. so close my hair was touching the ground. and it spoke:
are you still waiting for life to start?
been getting into scat recently. but like, in a bataille way, so in a cool esoteric way. Basically I'm way better than all of you other scat fetishists
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
moving forward i will try my best to limit my blog to my paraphilias rather than dedicate my days to writing about idyllic suicide.
All of my rotten desires used to twist in my stomach, make me feel so disgusting and evil. I still think people could smell how putrid my soul is, the rot the oozes from my orifices. Perversion has been my second longest friend next to death. I still punish myself when i let my perversions gain ahold of my impulses—it's necessary. You must sacrifice time in the bath before your fingers prune up. I've since learned to accept that throughout my lifetime, I will only open up to my interests more and more. I'm a person capable of moderation. It seems acceptable to me to allow my mind to be free when I have no ownership of anything else in my life.
I'm in love with physical pain that pacifies my mind. There's very little left to think about when all you can do is heave and recover from sexual torture. It feels good. Sickly good.
I've stated before that once I reach old age and have no longterm lovers worth fighting for, I'll find a very beautiful lady, a silicone lady to make my lifelong companion. She would sit with me, love me, listen to me, soothe me, but she could never hurt me, and it depresses my chest. A love that stabs is the only one I've ever known.
When I orgasm I imagine girls caked in dirt, limp and pale. Bruised at the joints. Stomaches flayed. I think I would love a corpse better than I would a mannequin. I still don't understand what it is. The look is very erotic. To know it's still human, but a hollowed out form—to love a corpse is to love an equal, to be truly seen and understood, but I alone hold that key. I imagine curling up against her cold body, dried mud on her lips meant to be licked clean, and I blanket us in warmth. I sleep, and we are equal. I understand her as I understand myself to be partly living, partly dead
I'm not sure what the message is here. I suppose I havent written in awhile about this and needed to collect my thoughts
I act out with my sexuality. I find beauty in the world, so I seek the opposite. Where flowers bloom, I'm attracted to dead leaves. When butterflies sip nectar from the flowers, I seek worms. But even these aren't good metaphors. Better, when an animal squats to relieve itself of waste, I spread myself in invitation. Go ahead and imagine that, and then imagine much, much darker. In there, in that complete, corrupt darkness, somehow, I find my ecstasy.
— “Down” (2013), Blowfly Girl
im going to take a break from writing, more for others sake than my own, but i also find it embarassingly pathetic how i bleed everywhere. im trying to fix myself, can you see? But it feels more like sweeping it under the rug than anything.
i may not feel love now, maybe i'm incapable of understanding it, but i'll at least have the security of knowing that the second most loved day in my life will be my funeral. The most loved day would be my birth. Am i crazy to dream of it? To wonder what their regrets all are? What they would miss most about me? Why cant we all love eachother more? Help me understand what it means to love others. I dont ynderstand anything of what it means to love. I think i feel it for everyone, but when i try to sit down with it and try to understand, its gone, like trying to catch a fleck of dust dancing in the air.
But i imagine my funeral often. Despite whatever resentment my friends have built up for me, it would all be undone by one simple act. And i would be loved, i would be seen. I write my heart out all on paper, all on these pathetic posts, im sure someone will find it when i die, and then they will understand how painful it was to be in this body and rot and disease. They'll find out things they wont like too. A lot of things. But it wouldnt matter. I would be liberated by my death, and that would be when they all will understand
Or maybe im too rotten. maybe they'd feel even more disdain and pity. maybe my death wouldnt make a difference to anyone but me. Then it would be a matter of suffering or not suffering. Is that what my life has amounted to? To suffer or not suffer? Im capable of more than just that, i know it, but its as though it all circles back to that one point, that familiar sigh. And once i reach that point, nothing else in the world would matter but the fact that i cant take the suffering any longer.
i don't want to feel these things anymore. these feelings are ruinous to the few good things in my life. the few good things that make it all worth living. i'm scum and i deserve to die. i know what theyd all say, i know what they all think. id rather you take my eyes and ears away so i can still live in ignorance. Take away my capacity to feel so that i no longer ruin my life and others with it all. I'm so confused, i don't know what to think, i want this feeling in my chest to go away, all these things that drive others away and make them resent me. i'm so confused, help me understand, i wish there were clear rules to being a human, maybe there are but i don't feel like im even human at all, i don't know what im doing, i just don't understand, i don't understand anything at all
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 forget that im solely to blame for everything ive done wrong and everything wrong with me. im sorry for bleeding all over everyone, i have this need to be acknowledged for my pain, but its really useless and childish of me to expect that it would change anything of my Truth, that it would ever change the way i feel about myself
childish
Being me feels like a hell i cant escape from
oh whats the use of this whining. im in denial about god's absence. if he still does exist, he doesnt exist for my sake
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
THIS IS WHAT HAPPINESS LOOKS LIKE
There is a profound ache in my chest that pulls at the emotions of others and I can't seem to forgo it. Being in this body, feeling too much of it all—oh God, surely its worse than death itself. I can't stop feeling, I can't stop thinking. I want to kill my mind, I want to kill this sick life, I want to be reinvented, I want to get away from it all
