˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ ꧑ᥡ bᥣ᥆g꒱

I'm too mysterious for a bio

[weltenwellen]

Hanif Abdurraqib, "Glamor on the West Streets / Silver Over Everything"

[etherealauralite]

We all have thoughts echoing throughout our minds. Harrowing moments circling the hallways that make up the intricate buildings which house our memories. Said memories acting as the blueprint for the ever-changing architecture. Once, my building was bare; the schema was yet to be full of traumatic instances. It was just steel beams, insulation, and maybe even a light fixture or two.

Then fourth grade happened. The insulation had experienced severe water damage because 9-year-old me couldn't stop crying. She wondered why no one wanted to be her friend. She begged the teachers to do something. She was heinously ridiculed, past the point of breaking down in front of the whole class. She was denied the childhood that her classmates received. She wasn't allowed to be excited for story time, eagerly awaiting what lies in the next chapter of Roald Dahl's BFG. She was forced by her teacher to sit several rows back, because apparently her olive oil moisturizer reeked of, "cologne". Her classmates snickered as she shrunk herself, tuning out the chapters she was once so enthusiastic to hear. But at least middle school would be different.

Being asked out as a joke by strangers who sought the approval of their friends was different. Being called ugly to her face because she dared to make eye contact with a boy who sauntered past her was different. Being slapped across the face by a "friend" in the middle of the hallway for laughs was different. Being put on the spot in class because a boy (not the one who asked her out as joke nor the one who unprovokedly called her ugly, this one was different) wondered if she was poor because she bore the same clothes daily was extraordinarily different. But we're all growing up, now. High school won't be the same.

Freshman year was quiet. She doesn't remember much of it. It's sophomore year that she blocks out. The months leading up to her forced first kiss that she isn't allowed to feel uncomfortable about. Or the constant isolation that left her to be preyed upon by an older guy, who later that summer, forced more than a kiss. The remainder of the summer, pondering why she was hurting so much. The night terrors. That night. Last minute, life altering decisions. Waking up the next morning with swollen eyes and shaking hands. She needs to let go of the blame. She still struggles, fuming at herself (and rarely, the world) for letting it all happen. She trembles as she types. Her throat hurts. She wants to believe that the fault lies within those who traumatized her. But why couldn't she stop it?

Now the building is a Tower of Terror-styled labyrinth with doors leading to rooms she'd rather not enter twice. She wants to renovate. She wants a skylight. Walls painted with happy colors. Doors leading to rooms that don't scare her. Plenty of windows because she wants to no longer be afraid of perception. She prefers a ranch-style with a yard, as opposed to the liability that is the terrifying labyrinth. Perhaps, even a garden. She'll try not to mind the bees. She'll learn new things about herself. Like how she was wrong to hate what happened to her so much, that she ultimately hated herself, too. Or how she didn't need to punish herself for not knowing what pain waited for her that summer, as so to prevent it. She'll speak her mind, even if only small whispers; and one day, she will shout.

[etherealauralite]

Hard conversations are like new recipes.

I don't do them often. I'm afraid of trying something dissimilar. I half-heartedly fear change.

What if I'm unable to follow directions clearly? What if I lack some of the ingredients? What if I don't like the taste?

So I go with what I know; a traditional, tried and true staple that has rarely steered me wrong. I take solace in the familiarity, the knowing.

Until there comes a(nother) time where the traditional doesn't satiate me. The tried and true becomes tired and timeworn. I crave something fresh.

I scour through the mental bookshelf where the untouched recipes reside. I find one; one I thought would never leave the cerebral space I have carved out for it.

And I read it out loud.

[etherealauralite]

I want my life to be like a poetry book. I want my home to be a dusty bookshelf. My backyard to be a cafe. My attic to be a plant nursery. I want to be the poem.

[gulistan-blog]

㋡🥀

Amazing view..

[brwngalmimi]

[recoverr-deactivated20220605]

today & every other day, i hope you remember it’s okay not to have it all figured out. no one has it all under control, it’s an illusion!!! many of us are scared, tired and still trying to heal from things we’ve never told anyone. it’s ok to be messy and open and vulnerable and authentic. the only thing that matters is being true to your journey and not sinking into comparison over other people’s curated lives on social media. you’re ok!! you’re doing enough!!! you’re good, pal!!

[cheruib]

oh haven’t you heard???? things will get better and you will be okay

[thehopefulquotes]

“Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tip toe if you must, but take the step.”

— Naeem Callaway

[recoverr-deactivated20220605]

if your body has been feeling depleted, tired or in pain for whatever reason, i wanna ask of you to be extra gentle to yourself while handling it. i know it’s common for us to feel pressured to push past our physical and mental limits, but if your body has been giving you signs that something doesn’t feel right, it’s important to listen to it and remember that it’s your home. you need & deserve to take care of it especially when it is calling for your help and attention.

[4rba-deactivated20240624]

[traumasurvivors]

Just in case you don’t hear it enough, I’m so proud of you. I am proud of you for every time you picked yourself up off the ground. I am proud of you for all the times you kept going when it seemed impossible. You may not be ready to see it yet, but you have so much worth and value. You are enough. And you have always been enough. 

[mahougirlmutualaid]

Please don't scroll! Help Us Get Safe Water

Hello! I'm Madison! I'm working with my friend Yazid to try and fundr/aise for his cause.

Yazid is the caretaker for an orphanage in Bugiri, Uganda named God Provides Orphanage and Ministry, which cares for and schools over 50 orphans as well as struggling families. He works tirelessly to support these children as best he can and could really use some help right now.

Right now, we have a crisis. Our water purifier is broken, and we don't have the funds to fix it. The clean water is crucial for drinking, cooking, bathing, and keeping the kids away from things like typhoid and cholera, which can become deadly.

It's going to be $500 dollars to repair it, which is unfortunately money we don't have. If I had a job I'd pay for it myself, but I've been too ill to work with my suspected Multiple Sclerosis. So, I am begging for your help in sharing this post!!! And any small amount you have to donate makes a world of a difference!

pa/ypal is therealmaxspaceerase (@)gmail (.)com

c/ashapp and ven/mo are savegodprovides

Anything you can do is a huge help. Whether it's a reblog, small donation, sharing it onto another platform, or boosting it to others through messages, it's a huge help.

For example, the time we had the most traction is when several people were helping me boost the post by messaging it to people we thought would care, and asking if they'd be willing to reblog it!! Our goals were made because of those people helping! So, if you have a spare five minutes, I ask that you please do that too, if you can. I'm putting a little sample message in the replies you can copy and paste too if writing can be difficult for you!

thank you so so so so so much. I'll link proof to this post soon too, if you scroll down in my blog you can find a lot though!! I'll link their gof/unfme as well.

Seriously, cannot say thank you enough ^^ I really appreciate it.

[b3lch]

I fucked up on my taxes and the IRS fucked me and drained my account, to save my checking account which was in the red I had to deplete my savings to literally nothing like 0.00 when I worked SO hard to save up for my hysterectomy aftercare

I am shattered

If anyone has anything to donate or if you could please share I would be unequivocally grateful

[naturaekos]

[chilewithcarnage]

[demonicmadre]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ Hihi 🌹 Rozatli (she/they) here reaching out for some help, id appreciate if youd consider rb this for me please 🙏🏽 ty

Its 27 degrees out and i live in a garage with no insulation and huge gaps where the elements blow in. I havent been working recently bc i got sick worse than ive ever been (my covid test was negative but my sisters house caught it so im pretty sure it was wrong and i think thats where it was from). Although im much better now, I dont have a heater or a fridge + way to cook so im opening up donation based art commissions again to try and get these basic necessities to take care of myself properly. I was planning on working toward living in an apartment by now but getting sick put a hold on everything

I can pull some tarot cards for you if youre into asking the elements for advice but i do have limits on the types of readings ill accept and the kinds of questions ill ask through my decks.

(even a dollar helps; msg me here on tumblr to clarify if youre interested)

Personalized custom lewdities of yours truly available too for those interested💋 (21+)

a hot plate, a mini fridge, and a heater is maybe asking a bit much, i realize; no one has money rn and we are all struggling but i have to hope better times are in store if i open myself to assistance ❤️✨🌈☀️

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 Thank you🤘🏽🙌🏽🤘🏽

Pls ignore the deadname

Pay Hector Martinez using PayPal.Me

Go to paypal.me/rozatli and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.