when your guardian angel quits 💧

Kiana Khansmith
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@snowychicken
when your guardian angel quits 💧

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.
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“what are you gonna do, cry about it?” yes . the fuck
i be like “never again” and guess what i did? agained
why do the cycles perpetuate so effectively. being lonely shouldnt make it harder for you to socialise and connect with others. in a world that made any sort of sense anyway
Ik it's been said before but if we could stop equating pronouns with gender and remember neopronouns exist that'd be awesome

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
posting on tumblr is risky because there's always a chance that your diary will undergo peer review
the growing consensus among experts in the field is that I've fucked everything up to a greater degree than was previously believed to be possible
I would like it generally known that I am, despite appearances, doing my fucking best
Stop saying “do it scared” i do everything scared I sleep scared Boy i’ll kill u

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
do you want to play dead bodies with me
floats along your dash face down and quiet and cold
a shattered mirror still shows your reflection. you aren't in it.
other people allegedly see you; or at least they see something where you are. but you can't see yourself. you have a collection of masks that latch onto your face seemingly at random and don't give you the privilege of deciding when they come off.
sometimes, when you're alone, you catch yourself wondering if you have a mask on. if the reflection the mirror refuses to show you is even yours.
you lie on the autopsy table and tear yourself open with your bare hands. inside, you find nothing. contradictions upon contradictions, memories and illusions, absences and denial, failed attempts at belonging, at being.
within it all, there is a pit. you look at it and you know that if you threw a bottle into it, you'd never hear it hit the bottom.
you sew yourself shut. you walk out of the morgue, finally, knowing who you are.
a corpse.
I made some shrinky dinks yesterday :)
my "suicidal hermit" lifestyle has been largely detrimental to my emotional wellbeing
you have GOT to get over god abandoning you when you were 2 like its not even uncommon

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
one reblog = one lettuce leaf for this thing:
@=:
@=: holy shit 🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬🥬.........
to the untrained eye, it may seem like i’m about to fucking kill myself. however,