
titsay
One Nice Bug Per Day

blake kathryn
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Acquired Stardust

Kaledo Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
$LAYYYTER
noise dept.

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă

Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
seen from United States
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seen from TĂźrkiye

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@king---rat

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me, speaking to a man i have just met and barely talked to who hasnât done anything particularly offensive yet: youâre on thin ice, pal.
âNo one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you.â
â Rick Riordan (via purplebuddhaquotes)
âYou were fucking me up but I loved you so I let you. We were fucking each other up and calling it love.â
â Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)

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People who wound us get no say in how we clean up the blood.
Harriet Selina
âImagine this,â he said. "You meet her at a party. Sheâs wearing a red dress that catches your eye. But really, youâre just focusing on her smile; the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs. The way she brushes off compliments like she doesnât quite believe them. The way she gestures with both of her hands. "Imagine you fall in love with her,â he said. âImagine that on the first morning you wake up next you her, youâve already decided that you could spend the rest of your life by her side. Imagine getting to know her. "Imagine deciding you want to marry her; confirming everything you ever thought. Imagine planning a future. Planning a life. Allowing yourself to dream. Feeling like things are finally falling into place; like youâve finally figured it out.â âNow,â he said, âimagine that one day you walk into the kitchen and she is already awake. Imagine her sitting you down with an expression you donât recognise. Imagine her facial expression as she tells you things donât feel the same anymore; that she doesnât feel the same anymore. Imagine the sinking in your stomach, the punch to the gut. Imagine watching her walk away after a half-hearted-suddenly-awkward hug. "Imagine a week later she comes to collect the box youâve put all her belongings into. They spill out; her clothes; her toothbrush; her hair bobbles; pieces of her you never imagined youâd have to miss. Imagine you keep her scarf; the one she never wears anymore; the one that still smells like her. "The thought alone is enough to destroy a person,â he says, âdonât you think?â He paused to look at his hands. âNow imagine it actually happens. Imagine the pain that follows that kind of love.â
â Sue Zhao // A Story
I looked at my mother because I was a version of my mother. I looked away from my mother because I was a version of my mother. I was me, but I was also herâmy mother, and I understood this all too well.
â Nora Lange, "Dog Star", pub. The Rupture (#120)
Iâm homesick all the time ⌠I just donât know where home is. Thereâs this promise of happiness out there. I know it. I even feel it sometimes. But itâs like chasing the moon - just when I think I have it, it disappears into the horizon.
Sarah Addison Allen

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âHave you ever told yourself itâs time to let go, you feel so desperate for holding on so long, you take a deep breath, telling yourself ok let go, then you find yourself crying. You know in your heart you can never truly let go fully, you love him so much. It fucken hurts so much.â
â Your secrets are safe here
âExiting from any long-term relationship comes at great personal expense, which explains why so many people are understandably reluctant to endure the cost of severance. Beginnings and endings are always dramatic and occasionally traumatic. Youthful brio allows us to engage in transformation. As we age, we carefully weigh the spectacle of continuing enduring harrowing situations or seeking melodramatic renovation of our core being. Analysis of the respective cost benefit ratio, consideration of the known versus the unknown, can delay or permanently deter us from altering our environment, leading our persona to become more rigid as we mature. Transformations in life are disconcerting to people who resist change.âÂ
â Kilroy J. Oldster
https://www.instagram.com/pbuddhaproject/
https://www.instagram.com/pbuddhaproject/
â1. The last time you made the mistake of making a home out of a pair of arms and a soft smile, you learned the hard way that anything that moves, that can blame, that can cause ache does not deserve such an elevated status in your heart. Still, you are an anomaly, a wild thing hoping for a home. A sailor wishing to leave the ocean and return. 2. I still remember a day when your father had lifted you in his arms and told you that you are loved, more than you ever know. It was two days before the plane crash that took him. It was two days before I saw death dance in your broken eyes for the first time. I donât think it ever stopped dancing there. 3. Yesterday, someone asked you, âwho do you trust most in the world?â And you felt that your lips were sewn shut. Everybody you should love and trustsâ names felt rough and raw on your tongue like they were in a foreign language that you had become too ancient to learn. So instead you whispered your own name like a secret into the abyss and hoped no one saw the sadness that had crawled itâs way along with your name out of your mouth. 4. A summer ago, you asked me what it was like to not need a place to call home. I know you asked this from a place of trauma, that your trauma has convinced you it will all be okay once you find a home. But it is lying, because what you need up find is your healing. And I told you that wanderlust had etched itself so ornately into my bones that I had no choice but to travel till it had sated itself. You looked at me with envy, even as I thought of all the people who would love to make a home of your heartbeat. You however were looking for a certain kind of love that you would call your very own. A kind of love that would never abandon you the way everyone you have ever loved has. 5. Something about you glowed bigger and better than all the stars we gazed at in the night sky. And even then, even when you had everything, you longed for a human to belong in. But everytime you laid the foundations for something good, they came crashing and tumbling down on your head. Because your trauma is a perfectionist and no one could quite become what you needed and wanted at the same time. 6. I wish I had told you then what I told you in that very last letter before I left. That child, why did no one ever teach you that you cannot turn people into homes? People are rivers, ever changing, ever flowing. They will disappear with everything you put inside them. Still, that home you are hunting for does have a heartbeat. But it isnât one locked in anyone elseâs chest. Just look inside your own.â
â Nikita Gill, People Arenât Homes

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People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, theyâll kiss you for the last time.
You wonât know itâs the last time, of course. You rarely do.
Later, when thinking back to it, youâll try to remember whether they lingered for just a moment before they broke away. Youâll try to remember the placement of their hands.
Much later still, youâll become stuck on the memory of how you met. How you fell in love with their mind. How they surprised you. How they challenged you to become a better person.
Youâll spend Friday evenings trying to disentangle them from your psyche. Like finding an endless array of their socks at the bottom of your drawer. Wishing they would disappear yet being unable to throw them out.
On bad nights, you want to scream. How could you? Of all the people in the world, you were supposed to stay. Out of all the temporality, all that transience - you were meant to be the exception.
You think about calling them, if only to receive a reminder of their voice on the answerphone. You almost do, but something stops you. You remember a poem you read a long time ago. It went something like -Â
People are impermanent. The love of your life will leave you. On a Sunday morning, theyâll kiss you for the last time.
Sue Zhao | Nothing but Strawberries