If you had to sing a child to sleep RIGHT NOW what would you sing and it CANT BE a lullaby it has to be a regular song
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Peter Solarz
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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One Nice Bug Per Day
AnasAbdin

★

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Mike Driver
RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

shark vs the universe

Kaledo Art
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@fuuhgeddaboudit
If you had to sing a child to sleep RIGHT NOW what would you sing and it CANT BE a lullaby it has to be a regular song
thank god i’m not who i once was
but i wish you knew me when i was still as soft
many years ago, i made this blog as a diary space, meant to journal my life as a seventeen year old navigating the experience of emerging from her very first depression. from then on, this became a scrapbook of sorts. a collection of photos, shower thoughts, vents and recounts of several traumatic events that happened in quick succession over a very short period of time. these traumatic moments shaped my life from the age of seventeen to, well, now, but particularly seventeen to twenty. that is when this blog was most active, and i am somewhat blessed to still have access to all of those posts. to relive my most harrowing moments in the rawest form of writing i could have mustered - tear streaked and clutching my phone to manically record my thoughts in real time - has been fairly vital in trying to work through that trauma now, at thirty-one. i suppose it’s better late than never. avoidance never helped anyone (least of all me over the last ten years, burrowing my head in the dirt to avoid doing any inner work for fear of what i might find down there in that void, gaping back at me).
now, i can see the patterns. the lessons never learned. the people pleasing, the desperation for connection, for a family, for a village. a need so searing hot that i continued to let the same people back in - people who have time and time again shown me who they are, and i turned the other way in hopes they’d love me like i loved them, flaws and all. i still find myself here, with the same people i’ve never been able to fully trust, resentment brewing for years on end because they are still exactly who they are - their heels set in the sand, a refusal to grow and bloom and become more. and i won’t be like them.
i still find myself hoping for community and connection, but in a way that allows me to respect myself and those i hope to someday love. i am learning to meet myself alone. to heal the girl i once was and the woman i am now. i am trying to love the parts of me that collapsed under the weight of her own mental strain and treat her with kindness. i don’t want to be ashamed of how i screamed and thrashed in war with myself.
i still oscillate between the wolf in the trees - calm and steady and quiet - and the fawn crashing through the brush, desperately seeking a haven or a kind hand.
i know that one day i will heal, and i will find a sense of belonging and purpose, and i will feel loved on all sides. one day, i will feel my soul settle, and life will feel like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.
i will find my kin, my people. future friends, future souls that i will adore and who will love me, too. and our relationships will not be transactional. it will not be one-sided or shallow, it will not be a case of only grazing the surface because of a fear of the deep end. they will be built on love and i will curate and care for them until they blossom.
i will move on. i will find peace somewhere in the lull between acceptance and perseverance.
not now. not today. not tomorrow. but one day.
*me, literally sick with want* whatever
crystal potion
Solar eclipse by Gallery 360
I’ll haunt the world inside you
Fiona Apple, Slow Like Honey
Detail of a Roman mosaic of a grinning skeleton, Pompeï - ca. 50 AD
“PERSEPHONE: I am weak, I cry salt, and my tears are abyssal; you are weak, you cry salt, and your eyes are darkness; you, and me, and them, and the world is terribly human, terribly monotonous.”
— Pauline Albanese, The Closed Doors
Carl Phillips, from "Back Soon; Driving—"
why did God give me these battles (getting dressed and leaving the house)
turkish coffee my beloved
Thomas Struth - Galleria dell’Accademia I, Venice, 1992
I am not in this life to fucking watch ads
D U A L I T Y
I’ve been on an extended absence from tumblr lately but I just wanted to let you know you matter to me and I appreciate you :)
i have been too, lovely! so don’t worry and i’m sorry i’m getting to this so late, but you matter to me too and i appreciate you too, lovely 💗i hope you’re well!