LANI

🐍 Hi, I’m Lani. I use she/her. I’m 22 years old. I’m biromantic, emphasis on romantic.

⛪️ I am very artistically inclined! I write poetry more than anything. I love music. Ethel Cain is my all-time favorite artist.

🪓 I’m new to tumblr so bear with me! Just here to make new friends and whatnot.

🥩 Sometimes this blog will be nsfw, but I’ll try to keep most of that contained to my other account: mxmmy-lxve. This one will just be personal rambles or whatever is on my mind.

🌾 I’m southern and survived a cult so you already know the hierophilia is insane.

🖤 Big fan of yearning

I am not obligated to respond to any DMs. I am busy with work a lot of the time. Please do not blow me up or send exceedingly long/frequent messages. Life exists outside of tumblr; please extend courtesy to anyone you message online in general. Respect will get you far with me.

🪦— Thanks for reading!

Everything I’ve loved, I’ve walked away from. It was all for the best; all for them, and I can only hope they understand why I had to leave.

But you know, I had someone once. The best friend I ever had. But we had a big falling out, and haven’t spoken since. Our paths diverged, and that’s alright.

I left first. I think I was afraid of what I felt for her, when I was really honest with myself. She had long pin-straight blonde hair, light like the moon when it’s full. Her eyes were big and green, like a forest you could get lost in. She was my opposite in every sense of the word, but that decade we spent as friends will always hold a soft spot in my memory. She was my other half, as the poets say.

I’ll never reach out again. But the bitter truth is that there is no other woman I could ever love again except for her.

When I lost my mind, I did so alone. She was too late to save me, and by that point, I didn’t want to be saved. I gave myself over to anything that would hurt me, so long as I could suffer. But she wouldn’t. She would never.

I’d rather spend years looking for her in crowds than torment her with my love. I will somehow use this destruction lying dormant inside me to create a better world for her. I carry her with me. Nobody can know me without knowing her, by extension.

We kissed only once. It was chaste and brief, and she tasted like liquor. That is why I started drinking.

Men inherently know me by the shape of my body. She knew me by the shape of my soul. She knew me by my knock, by my footsteps. We never said it aloud, but sometimes I’d catch her staring at me with a little too much affection in that smile she wore when she was having a good time.