2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
RMH
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dirt enthusiast

Kiana Khansmith
Misplaced Lens Cap


JVL

Janaina Medeiros
AnasAbdin
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo

#extradirty
YOU ARE THE REASON
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d e v o n

almost home
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@lonelystr

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I want to love you so gently, kiss you so sweetly

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be open to love and it will find you when you least expect it
“Do not expect people to tell you the truth because they also lie to themselves.”
—

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Trip to the beach
You really don't know how bad you've been doing until you experience happiness for the first time in what seems a whole eternity. At first, you don't even think about it, as if any unnecessary thoughts are somehow gonna cause it to disappear. You just ride the wave carelessly, laughing uncontrollably and acting your age, slowly feeling like you're making some progress; you're getting better. But like all waves, this one too passes and as it quiets down, it sets you gently ashore, almost apologetically, for the harm it may have caused. You give it a questioning look, not quite understanding why it's not pulling you back to the ocean. It just leaves you alone. Alone and confused, like a lost child, unable to figure out where the body of water that had been surrounding you suddenly disappeared. It is then that you realize you're not at the beach surfing anymore, you're at home, laying in bed, grasping your phone and desperately waiting for a text, a call. Yet all you're left with is time on your hands and an abundance of thoughts. So you make do with what you have and it becomes as clear as a day how much it all hurt before, how bitter everything tastes after you've had some sweetness. Like an itch that has been scratched, you're finally aware of the weight of all the silent things you've carried with you for so long. Staying busy is the only way you've learned to deal with them so you try to fill up your schedule to keep yourself focused, but there are still days when you wish for a relaxing trip to the beach.
Before quarantine, I was already an empty plate.
The memory of mash potato, a hand brushing mine, or peas, a hug shared with a friend.
I try to remember some form of sustenance heartier that vegetables, a kiss, held hands, bare skin.
But now, I’ve been so focused on everything else, I realise just how long it’s been since I’ve eaten.
And I’m so hungry... so touch starved, that I fear when food is put back on my plate.
A friend holds my hand and tells me they miss me, I fear it’s going to kill me.
The plate so used to being empty, not bearing the weight of food, that it will simply break.
To think I was touch starved before...

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