It’s her birthday today.

bliss lane

No title available
we're not kids anymore.

Origami Around

oozey mess

blake kathryn
Xuebing Du
No title available
taylor price

#extradirty
Today's Document
EXPECTATIONS
Misplaced Lens Cap
Not today Justin
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature
The Stonewall Inn
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Lithuania

seen from Türkiye
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@cebtuje
It’s her birthday today.
Wild blackberries that my phone wouldn’t focus on
#pepper #meat #12400 @zacefronsasshole
“ok lets do warm up sketch”
“oh..”
I am keeping a secret. I am sucking on it like a lozenge that just won’t get smaller. I am passing it back and forth between my teeth, like a ball on a field between the legs of a bored player. It is not a happy secret, like a diamond in a velvet box in a sweaty pocket. It’s a secret like a loaded gun sewn into the lining of my sweater’s hood, aimed directly for the back of my head. It is a cartoon piano suspended above me. It is a manhole threatening to spontaneously collapse beneath my feet. It is a cloud of noxious gas meticulously attached to only the molecules I misguidedly breathe. It is in my shadow, and it singes the concrete where I stand. It is the sad clink of an empty glass on New Year’s Eve. It is a nap in the passenger seat from which I will never wake up. I am keeping a secret. I am hoarding it. You will find it amongst yellowed mountains of books in a garage, when you find me. This is not a promise, it is a confession. I am keeping a secret.
Silent Hill 3 (2003)
I’ve been on my knees since I was 5.
In the chapel,
in a bedroom,
in an alley late at night.
Always facing an inflated
godlike
version of some guy.
But as a girl you do what you need to survive.
You open wider, take the body.
Thank your father, you’ve been naughty.
2 Hail Marys, 20 lashings.
“I’ve been sent to punish you for daring to exist.
You will never know a love as meaningful as this.”
I’ve memorized
the lines
since I was 10.
From the Bible,
from the playbook,
from the magazines for men.
If you should mess it up, you’ll start again.
But, still, they only want
the women
they condemn.
I think that I’d have too much fun in hell.
With the pagans
and the hedonists
and sapphics there as well.
Purgatory seems the better fit
I can’t stand waiting in the corner,
but I do love being hit.
There’s not a torture you can prescribe
that I wouldn’t find
a way to like.
Every single second I’m alive
I’m sharpening an axe I’d like to grind.
“I was sent to punish you
for the way I was designed.
You will never know a love
that you fear more than mine.”
- “God Fear a Woman” 2023
𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔬 𝔡𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔶𝔞
Apostolos Palavrakis, Untitled, (oil and oil pastel on canvas), 2001 [Beck & Eggeling International Fine Art, Düsseldorf. © Apostolos Palavrakis]
Apostolos Palavrakis (Greek, 1962), Untitled, 2001. Oil and oil pastel on canvas, 160 x 135 cm.
Perhaps it victimizes me to admit that I am expertly betrayed. Easily taken advantage of. I am not a martyr. I am The Devil’s Professional Advocate. I will put myself in your shoes till my flesh melts with the soles. And in these trappings not made for me, my clumsy and stumbling gait walks me into gaping pits of disillusion. Bear traps set in a forest by those who know I will stop to admire the leaves and search for beetles on their backs who need rescuing. I suppose that I owe my survival to a magic trick I learned (earned?) when I was young:
“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”
I became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two. Peel myself straight down the middle like the plastic backing of a bandaid. Astral project into a timeline where I haven’t made whatever grave error in character judgement has landed me in my terrible predicament. I have been asked 100 times what the difference is between Halsey and Ashley and I have never answered honestly. The truth is that I built her, as a child, to protect the tender core that lies beneath. In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me. But you can’t hurt us anymore,
Because one of us is not real.
Francesco Levy, The Constellations of Summer
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