When my IG diary gets shutdownā¦back here to the OG site.
NASA

ā

Claire Keane
Today's Document
tumblr dot com
Show & Tell

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
we're not kids anymore.
sheepfilms

Kiana Khansmith
taylor price

Andulka
almost home

tannertan36

ā
seen from Bulgaria

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Latvia
seen from France
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Vietnam

seen from Ireland
@loadingpleasebepatient
When my IG diary gets shutdownā¦back here to the OG site.

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
Everytime I speak
It becomes about you
And so I just listen
And silently drown
Iām told Iām not alone.
Iām told it is okay if I want to struggle in silence.
Little do you know, in the silence is where I lose myself.
Silence breaks me.
Silence becomes the unlimited pit of loneliness.
It is not okay.
when I become distant, is when Iāve completely lost myself.
All because I struggled in silence.
But that is okay.
-insert sad poem here-
TW
Poem written by me.
āPorcelain Throneā
Donāt tell me Iām strong when all I ache for is wrong.
This fight in me āmost recentlyāhas you mainly fooled.
You call me brave while I break beneath routine,
whilst this mask I wear has started to come unglued.
The warrior you think I am is curled up ā not standing tall.
Sheās not fearless but fetal, crumbling against the bathroom wall.
White ceramic knows my weight,
knows the sobs that echo late,
the bruise I hide beneath my sleeve,
and knows the wrist I never let breathe.
Sheās jaded.
Sheās wearied.
Sheās been mighty for far too long.
And no oneās stopped
to see the cloak ā
the threadbare kind
unseen through unless you choke.
These wounds donāt close.
They memorize me.
The old ones harrow,
the new ones tease ā
a scratch, a scrape, a self on self quarrel,
a soothing release, just a reason I could feel at peace.
For seconds.
Maybe less.
āTil shame sets in like derivative skin,
and the silence settles boundlessly innards my chest.
I kneel before the porcelain queen,
not to beg,
but to be emptied clean.
To punish the body I no longer claim ā
consequently where trauma touched and left its name.
the body heaves like ocean waves, and never-lands stars twinkles like crystals
I hide the blade in subtle ways:
in fingernails, in broken rings,
in showers where I scrub too raw,
in āaccidentsā that sting.
You wonāt see lines,
just stories untold,
written in places
I keep cold.
I skip meals like I skip memories ā
quietly, ritualistically.
As if thinning out
could thin the pain,
as if my vanishing
might cleanse the stain.
Because there was a time
I wasnāt touched gently.
Hands meant to hold
instead hollowed me out.
Now I flinch at kindness,
trust feels violent ā
and when I eat,
itās like Iām letting them in again.
Control is my religion now.
Sharp edges, empty plates ā
a twisted prayer I whisper late,
while I float
between want and hate.
You see a girl with fight in her chest.
I see a child
begging for rest.
No lullabies, no motherās kiss,
just the taste of iron,
the echo of fists.
I broke an oath
no one else could hear.
To stay alive,
but never near.
To bleed in places that leave no trace ā
to swallow screams,
to vanish with grace.
But donāt you dare say Iām strong
just because Iām still here.
Existing is not living
when youāre constantly in fear.
Iāve mastered the art of smiling wide
while crumbling beneath the tide ā
a fragile girl, a silent plea,
a scream dressed up
as poetry.

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 donāt want healing, i want someone to sit in the dark with me and not ask why
āPlease stop destroying what is left of your heart by constantly thinking about things that have broken you.ā
ā Nikita Gill
Dad I donāt want to be sick and disgusting.
- Beartooth
āWe hide pain in the weirdest places, broken souls and smiling faces.ā
ā Stars Go Dim, āYou Are Lovedā

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 did it again and Iām scared this one will be noticed.
and none of them were
I care about you <3
Youāre too sweet ā¤ļø
Richard Siken, from "Tablecloth"

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
You say you want a needy girl.
A clingy girl.
You say you want someone who canāt breathe without you,
Who waits by the phone, fingers trembling, heart wide open.
You want an obedient girl.
A sweet girl.
The kind of girl who folds herself into a box just small enough to fit in your palm.
Everyone wants a sweet girl.
The soft girl.
The quiet one, gentle like dusk,
Smiling through storms just to keep the peace.
The one who says yes when she means maybe.
The one who gives more than she has,
Because she was taught that love means sacrifice.
And that need is feminine.
Everyone wants a soft girl,
A clingy girl,
Until the softness wears thin.
Until the shine dulls.
Until the echo of her laughter fades,
Under the weight of being too much and never enough.
What happens to her when you're done?
When youāve taken what you wanted,
Her sweetness, her softness, her need,
And left her hollow?
What happens when her wrinkles start to show,
When her hair turns silver like moonlight,
When her light dims not from age,
But from being burned too long, too hot,
For someone who only wanted her while she was glowing?
What, then?
Her worth was in her beauty.
In her silence.
In the way she bent without breaking.
The soft girl.
The needy girl.
You wanted her small.
You wanted her quiet.
You wanted her sweet.
But softness bruises.
Need turns to ache.
And the sweet girl doesnāt stay sweet forever,
Not when sweetness is taken,
Not when it's devoured.
Solitude