kafkaesque summer of talking to bugs and not sensing passage of time.
cherry valley forever
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor

PR's Tumblrdome

romaā
YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird
Keni

ellievsbear
noise dept.
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
dirt enthusiast

Product Placement
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Stranger Things
Game of Thrones Daily
will byers stan first human second
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@ophelieaesque
kafkaesque summer of talking to bugs and not sensing passage of time.

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He knew the world was all in his imagination, but he was so proud of having created it. "My imagination is as real as my body," he told me.
ā“WHAT REMAINS OF EDITH FINCH
- Ofelia Malin, A Collection of Misplaced Affections (2023)
never kill yourself because who knows if guillermo del toro will make a film that stares straight into your soul and says "i see you, i understand you, and the cycle of violence can end" and you will leave a theater sobbing with hope
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA:Ā PRINCE CASPIAN 2008 | dir. Andrew Adamson

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ā October 28, 1916 / Letters to Felice
iāve been pulling my hair out for this degree for months and it paid off. iām at the top of my class for the first time since i was a kid and iām gonna ride that high forever

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delusionalpoet on instagram
delusionalpoet on instagram
Birthdays have always been difficult for me.
I think many can relate to that. Itās a day that unwillingly turns its spotlight on you. And maybe thatās why Iāve never really celebrated.
Already in early September, the unease begins to stir those restless feelings that always rise up before my day arrives. I find myself looking back at all my past birthdays. Each one a constant reminder that I was the child my classmates congratulated out of obligation, because ābullying is not allowed at school.ā
I hate the attention I receive; it never feels truly real. And yet, I ache for someone to see me. Perhaps thatās why I write books, start podcasts, capture my life in images and film. Hoping someone will notice. And when they do, my conspiracy takes root - this belief that no attention Iāve ever been given was genuine, but offered out of duty.
With every day that edges closer to October, Iām reminded again of how lonely I feel each year. I donāt think my teacher meant any harm that time she said it, but I didnāt know I was being bullied until then. In front of the whole class, I stood exposed, while they were caught in the act. I had believed I was just the quiet girl no one had gotten to know yet. I thought my solitude was mine to own, not theirs to impose.
My birthday is tangled up with longing. It reminds me of everything I have missed, and everything I still hope for. The tears that always come are not weakness, but a kind of prayer. My silence is not pride, but a waiting for someone to understand. Maybe it will take me another twenty-five years to learn how to celebrate myself, without feeling like the loneliest person in the world.
But time will pass anyway.
the worst part of avoidance is that iām still always waiting by the window.

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melancholy tastes like drinking rainwater out of your own cupped hands.
i donāt want to be loved gently, i want to be loved like a cathedral collapsing.