
shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola

Love Begins
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Andulka
ojovivo
No title available

#extradirty

oozey mess
dirt enthusiast
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
i don't do bad sauce passes

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

No title available
$LAYYYTER

★

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from United States

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seen from Türkiye
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@emptywind
TOM HOLLAND Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021) dir. Jon Watts
Commission for Pechallai on FA! 🐮
happy birthday, zhongli 🧡
Stronger out of spite
starting to think the amount of sleep you get has an impact on how much energy you have the next day. i’ll investigate more and get back to you
any updates?
JENNIFER’S BODY (2009) + letterboxd reviews
peak interior design to me is maximalism with dark green or black walls
bitches watch howls moving castle once and make this their whole lifestyle
the last of us part 2 - photo mode (enviroments)
ellie really be finding 20 year old medication in scummy bathrooms and being like mmmm pills that make you crawl fast
suddenly remembered this poem as i was making breakfast this morning & frantically googled “poem remembered to buy eggs?????????” & somehow managed to find it & it utterly knocked the wind out of me just as much as when i first read it
[image transcription:
Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and cooked myself dinner. You and I may have different definitions of a good day. This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill, worked 60 hours between my two jobs, only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks and slept like a rock. Flossed in the morning, locked my door, and remembered to buy eggs. My mother is proud of me. It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course. She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale” with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs” But she is proud. See, she remembers what came before this. The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles, how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks. She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide. These were the bad days. My life was a gift that I wanted to return. My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs. Depression, is a good lover. So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you. And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world, That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting. It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created. Today, I slept in until 10, cleaned every dish I own, fought with the bank, took care of paperwork. You and I might have different definitions of adulthood. I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college, but I don’t speak for others anymore, and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for. And my mother is proud of me. I burned down a house of depression, I painted over murals of greyscale, and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live But today, I want to live. I didn’t salivate over sharp knives, or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge. I just cleaned my bathroom, did the laundry, called my brother. Told him, “it was a good day.” -Kait Rokowski, “A Good Day”