2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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YOU ARE THE REASON
ojovivo

if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap

gracie abrams
Cosimo Galluzzi

ellievsbear
The Stonewall Inn

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Show & Tell
noise dept.
Jules of Nature
Keni
Fai_Ryy
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@dearmesstuff
Sometimes you need to sleep, sleep a lot. Not to escape, but to rest your soul from your feelings. Because everything, absolutely everything devours you. Completely.
āBrain
sometimes, all you can do is breathe and wait for the storm in your chest to pass...
I was burning, while you came blaming me for the smell of ashes. -Fyodor Dostoevsky
This year felt like being awake during a surgery
Nikita Gill, from Your Heart is the Sea: Poems; "Your Heart is the Sea," originally published in 2018
ā soulinkpoetry
ā Trista Mateer, from āi still forget weāre not even friendsā
ābut it wasnāt that badā
did it hurt? did you feel scared? unsafe? were you embarrassed? humiliated? terrified? did you feel confused on why? does it keep you up at night? do you avoid being in a similar situation? did you cry? did you want to cry? who told you it wasnāt that bad?
"How do you read so many books??" I am simply trying to avoid reality, what are you doing
jacks never had a bad track. āGlad to know youāre thinking about me when you kiss your husband.ā BANGER. āBut for tonight, let me pretend youāre mine.ā ICONIC. āIād probably kill another man if I found him with you like thisā LIFE CHANGING. āThere is nothing of equal value to meā. UNMATCHED.
Iād probably still adore you with your hands around my neck, or I did last time I checked
505 // Arctic Monkeys
letās go on a hike and fuck somewhere in the forest
i go to bed. i am consumed by overwhelming loneliness. i stare at the ceiling. i long for something i canāt name. i question if iām real. i see a funny little meme on my phone and laugh hysterically for several minutes. i get too invested in an unrealistic fantasy. i pass out around three.
āI cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.ā
ā Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis