NASA

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@theartofmadeline
AnasAbdin
Not today Justin
styofa doing anything

ellievsbear

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
macklin celebrini has autism

Kaledo Art

Janaina Medeiros
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Stranger Things
sheepfilms

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@idk-2bhnst
He spoke to me the softest when we would lay under the sheets that held us together as strong as he held me.
He loved me most when we were one, heart to heart, breath to breath.
I loved him most when we were one, mind to mind, smile to smile.
I spoke to him the softest when he showed me his brokenness, where I held the pieces of him in my hands so tightly my hands bled.
When Noah said “if my engine works perfect on empty, I guess I’ll drive” I couldn’t help but wonder how well it would work when full.
M.S. (via coffee-crinkled-pages)
I miss him. But do I? The things I miss about him, did they ever truly exist? Or were they things I wished he would do and be, that I believed he could be, even when he didn’t?
periods are medieval honestly. like sorry I got suicidal last night turns out I had too much blood in me. yeah no some of it fell out and I'm fine now.
@kittybroker
To be a woman and feel so deeply and intensely about everything is a beautiful trait. Don’t let the world take that from you. To be able to feel emotions throughout your body, to be able to openly cry when you’re happy, sad or mad, to be able to feel the emotion you feel completely so you don’t cause trauma. To feel is to heal. To feel is to survive. You are not broken, you are living.
Being a daughter is helping with diner while your brother is playing video games. Being a daughter is healing your mother’s trauma while also healing your own. Being a daughter is forgiving your father… over and over again.
Being a daughter is the lifelong burden of carrying the heavy weight dumped onto you by your elders.
Like clothes that fit too big.
- Being a woman
So close! It’s also men!
I need my mom to realize that I am not a foreign script for her to decipher or a problem for her to solve. I am her fucking daughter.
You cannot tell me that I do not have hurt, until you have crawled inside my mind and spent a night in the confusion, until you have walked down the dimly lit steps leading to my heart, and witnessed her body being racked with sobs, gasping for air on the floor of her room. You cannot tell me that I do not have hurt unless you dare to take my grief by the hand, look her in the eyes and say that to her face.
"you don't understand"
you know what I don't understand?
how could you go from talking to me every single minute of every damn day, laughing so hard you cry,
to becoming a random stranger. and not being able to look me in the eye
~ a poem about losing your best friend
Feeling like 4 new tattoos will fix all my problems.