the inside story . . .

Andulka
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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roma★
todays bird
sheepfilms
trying on a metaphor
NASA
🪼

Janaina Medeiros

PR's Tumblrdome
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DEAR READER
hello vonnie

Product Placement
styofa doing anything
No title available

blake kathryn

seen from Netherlands
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seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Japan

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from Dominican Republic

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Kenya
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@killingchivalry
the inside story . . .
what doesn’t kill me leaves a pit in my stomach that never goes away
ocd will have me thinking i cant text "here now if you wanna head over" because i sound like blowjob mario with a walkie talkie
I should probably have a good scream. I feel like I’m a little overdue a blood curdling throat ripping yell
rest in peace to this diva
i get so confused when social interactions r still hard for me like u mean i studied and observed for nothing??? ok sounds fake
Wellbutrin made my anxiety spike really bad. I stopped it and I feel better. Tom said the thing I was worried about was really funny… but idk. I’m really dumb.
i love writing out numbers and then putting them in parentheses like "one (1)" even when i dont need to i think its funny
immediately after an interaction: i have GOT to get more normal oh god i need to get more normal immediately i have to get more normal or they're going to hunt me down they're going to hunt me down and flay me for sport
during an interaction: and why not put a little spin on it? why not add some conversational zest?
Ugh they are always doing this
Little freaks
This guy who lives in Siberia did an AMA on Reddit and he’s honestly hilarious
its kind of distressing how you can tell a lot of people see popular indie artists and writers and such as like "a Celebrity but one which i stand a half decent chance of bullying to death"
June is liminal, a question
suspended
in humid air. I cannot
give words to this,
but I am answered
by fireflies, gently
rising and falling
above the grass.
June days are bright
and hot, but the brightness
that means something
happens at twilight.
I listen
to a cicada chorus,
and I think: how different
summers have become, how
different I have become,
standing on my porch
in tears because I thought
fireflies were gone,
and yet, here
they are, and here I am,
and we are all somehow
alive together.
I hear my neighbors living:
squeaking porch swings,
calling out, closing doors,
and I am oddly satisfied
with unworded questions
and unworded answers.
I need nothing else
from this moment.
I breathe, and the air
tastes like recently bloomed
flowers and mowed grass.
Everything is enough.