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Show & Tell
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
cherry valley forever
almost home
Cosimo Galluzzi
trying on a metaphor
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todays bird
★
Today's Document
bliss lane
Misplaced Lens Cap
The Stonewall Inn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Monterey Bay Aquarium
d e v o n
Cosmic Funnies
Andulka
Claire Keane
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
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seen from Bangladesh
seen from Venezuela
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from Paraguay
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seen from Philippines
@ingenuflection
weird socket: ssri era phenomenon is being Horny But Without The Horny. horny's shadow cast upon the wall. the negative space of where horny would otherwise go. a vague desire to jork it, the concept lingering in the mind, just not backed up by the presence of any particularly tangible Urge nor any particular Visions???
homeopathic horny...
Oh this is really good if I need
I was really hoping for
Penda’s Fen (1974)
In 2018, Pastor Dave Barnhart of the Saint Junia United Methodist Church in Birmingham, Alabama posted this message to Facebook:
“The unborn” are a convenient group of people to advocate for. They never make demands of you; they are morally uncomplicated, unlike the incarcerated, addicted, or the chronically poor; they don’t resent your condescension or complain that you are not politically correct; unlike widows, they don’t ask you to question patriarchy; unlike orphans, they don’t need money, education, or childcare; unlike aliens, they don’t bring all that racial, cultural, and religious baggage that you dislike; they allow you to feel good about yourself without any work at creating or maintaining relationships; and when they are born, you can forget about them, because they cease to be unborn. It’s almost as if, by being born, they have died to you. You can love the unborn and advocate for them without substantially challenging your own wealth, power, or privilege, without re-imagining social structures, apologizing, or making reparations to anyone. They are, in short, the perfect people to love if you want to claim you love Jesus but actually dislike people who breathe.
*turns my attention inwards* mmmmm. no *turns my attention back outwards* oh god
Sometimes I have days where I just feel deeply, deeply unwell. I feel like an alien. Like nothing I do will matter. Nothing I've done has mattered. I know this isn't true but it destroys me. Nothing feels good or worth it. It will pass but in the moment it feels so bad. And being aware that it is an illusion is a special kind of hell too. Like even this deep, persistent emptiness isn't real. This thing that's lived with me my entire life, an ever present dissatisfaction with the world and myself, even that is a fabrication. Why let a false idea bother me. Why let any of this bother me. None of it is real or matters. Then why am I so bothered. Why am I never the same person for longer than a few weeks it seems. Longer now than it used to be. But I get so tired of trying to thread my existence between overwhelm and meaninglessness.
I just want to know what's wrong with me sometimes.
Plate, chainmail, swords, and straps ⚔️
I am back in the place. A room large enough for the world, I cannot see the walls but I feel them. Doors are different. I step through them by accident. Room to room to room. My presence changing on every arrival.
I cannot see myself. I cannot feel myself. I cannot know or understand anything but the endless line of doors. And a room so large I cannot see the walls but I know when I've moved on.
Space and sense are impossible. Two things are one are five. Doors are fake and real. Walls are fake and real. I am fake and real.
I feel so weird and small and misunderstood. I try to be authentic. The things that bring me joy they don't understand. The things that unsettle me make no sense to them.
But they make sense to me. They finally make sense.
The young tattooed late night ice cream fans are my kin. Swearing and showing off their loud clothes and makeup. This feels authentic. So why does it make him so uncomfortable.
I was once that uncomfortable. I never want to be that way again.
I'd rather die than be that way again.
How can they not see how poisonous that way of life is for me. Stubbornness, small minded, agoraphobic. Like every value they had morphed and contorted into it's worst possible iteration in my mind. Like a mold left for two decades to grow and rot it's substrate.
It's clear to me I am not the child they expected to have. But I am kind. And loud. And I speak for myself. And I don't hold my tongue. And I'm curious about people different than me. And I'm not afraid to live or die.
Thinking about nuance in submission.
I am very devotional and very active. I like feeling powerless, but in a way that doesn't need enforcing. I don't like long lists of rules and if-this-then-that's. I like to feel below others, but in an understated way. A background knowledge that everyone knows but no one says outright. It's just the fact of the matter. I like having agency in that role. I like being a tool, but a smart tool. And I don't like being taken for granted.
I'll read erotic power exchange writing on here and tbh a lot of it bounces off of me. It's interesting to think of the perspective of a sub who certain themes do work for, but tbh I've always had a hard time describing succinctly what my submission looks/feels like and what I would enjoy most from an experience of power exchange.
I know I don't need a box to fit in but I think about what that box might look like a lot.
Thinking about nuance in submission.
I am very devotional and very active. I like feeling powerless, but in a way that doesn't need enforcing. I don't like long lists of rules and if-this-then-that's. I like to feel below others, but in an understated way. A background knowledge that everyone knows but no one says outright. It's just the fact of the matter. I like having agency in that role. I like being a tool, but a smart tool. And I don't like being taken for granted.
I'll read erotic power exchange writing on here and tbh a lot of it bounces off of me. It's interesting to think of the perspective of a sub who certain themes do work for, but tbh I've always had a hard time describing succinctly what my submission looks/feels like and what I would enjoy most from an experience of power exchange.
I know I don't need a box to fit in but I think about what that box might look like a lot.
Edvard Munch, The Voice, Summer Night, 1890s
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