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Mike Driver
Acquired Stardust
d e v o n

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I'd rather be in outer space šø
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
Game of Thrones Daily
art blog(derogatory)

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation

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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi

⣠Chile in a Photography ā£
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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Peter Solarz
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@kayvvv
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āSomeday youāll love her the way I loved you. Like the rest of the world isnāt peeking through the window. Like it wouldnāt matter if they were. Someday youāll know how it feels to sacrifice for someone because you want to. Because maybe itāll make her smile, and God does that smile knock you off your feet. And youāll hold her while she cries. Believe me, you will. Your arms like open palms catching rain. Someday youāll understand why I stayed even when it felt drowning. Even when you became a person I didnāt recognize. Because someday youāll see that love like this doesnāt ask. It doesnāt knock at the door and wait for your welcome. Itās just there. On a cold Wednesday morning, coaxing you back into bed bare naked or brewing coffee. Singing some song you know by heart, fluid as note into note. Like itās been there all along. Like it already belongs.ā
ā I hope itās someday soon
This
āāBut you told me you loved me,ā he said. She nodded. āSo much I canāt breathe.ā And he sunk to the ground and pulled her too close, his nose in the skin of her neck. He whispered words along her nape. Something like, āThank God.ā Something like, āIāll be better.ā Didnāt you hear me? she wondered. His arm like iron across her waist. Deep inside, something began to unravel. I said I canāt breathe.ā
ā excerpt from a book Iāll never write
āWatch how he treats waiters and speaks to his sister and acts when you win your third round of spit. Does he untangle Christmas lights with care? Fuck this. Hold that. Make sure you listen. When youāre late āovertired and dead in the eyesā watch him. Does he draw you close and talk you into slow dancing around your shoebox bedroom? Tell him a joke and wait for his lungs to bleed laughter. If they donāt, you should leave. Or stay and watch him cook dinner and fold laundry. Flip pancakes. Touch your underwear and sigh. Oh! Kids and dogs, too. Puppies, preferably. These are good indicators. Does he dip low to greet them? Small things might scare him, and if they do, you should leave. Or donāt. Or tiptoe around him until the tension erupts. Storm Warning. Code Red. Listen to him sing in the shower. Billy Joel. Elton John. Elvis, but only around Christmas time. Forgive, but donāt forget. And fuck. All the time. Donāt ever call it making love. That's idiotic, and you know it. Do it in your childhood bed after your parents fall asleep. Just once and only for the adrenalin. A quickie. A never have I ever completed. Afterwards, tell him about the time you lost your virginity to James Nelson in the backseat of his momās mini van. Tell him you think you were too young, but mean you wish you could take it back, and let him see you bare for a moment. Let him kiss you hard like heās trying to tell you something, but donāt make any assumptions. He could be too drunk, after all. Heās always too drunk. Have the kids talk, the marriage talk, the my side of the bed talk. If you survive all of this, you should stay. Unless you say, āWe need to talk,ā and he squirms. This is cruel, but ultimately effective. Or maybe try, āI love you.ā This, I warn you, is even crueler. When he says it back, ask why, and listen as he hands you pebble after pebble of ego. Donāt be fooled. You can still leave. Thatās still an option. Clothes thrown haphazardly into a suitcase- his or yours, you honestly canāt remember. You say you want more, and he asks of what. Itās ok not to know, but even if you do know, donāt you dare clue him in. For once in your life play hard to get. Watch him watch you half-way through the threshold of something brand new. Does he cry? Not now, necessarily, just ever. If he didnāt cry when you watched The Titanic, you should leave. Unless heās crying now. Which he is. Holy shit. Unpack your bag slowly, sock by sock, and let yourself wonder if youāre making the right decision. Let your heart break a little for the other side of the coin. Does he care about people? Not just you, but people. Humanity. Peace on earth. But then, okay, does he care about you? Enough, I mean. Does he care about you enough? Heās here now, and he says your name like a prayer, like a curse, like a thing he thought heād lost in the fire. And then heās mad as hell. Wait for him to clench his fists and practice patience. Push his buttons if you like, but donāt expect him to play nice. Sleep on the couch, just for a night, and hold on tight when he carries you back to your bed, his bed, in the middle of the night. Donāt bring it up in the morning. Heāll just blame it on your sleepwalking, and thatāll spark another fight about nothing. And by nothing I mean everything. Watch him pour your coffee a week later and add two sugars and a cream, just how you like it. Does he still pray under his breath right before bed? Listen to the way he says, āAmen,ā and compare it to the way he traces your brow when he thinks youāre still asleep. Heās too proud to act that way in front of his parents. Or anyone else, for that matter. Look through his drawers, top to bottom, and swallow the thrill that arises when you find the crumpled love note you once left on his desk at the job that he quit last year. Remember the way he used to call you darling. Mourn for a moment, only a moment, the way he used to be. And watch him that night, stroking the cat you couldnāt leave at the shelter, and let yourself wonder what life might be like without him. If the answer scares you or excites you or makes you tuck your feet up under your legs, stop. Breathe. Heās staring at you, waiting for answers. Scoot a little closer. You know what to do.ā
ā on falling in love and falling apartĀ
I miss you
Trying to get out of my own thoughts. Iām in bed with my loving husband but canāt get you off my mind. Stop it.
Havenāt seen this in a while.. wow.
A Wedding in Venice by Darja Barannik
November 15th š
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