what is the point of having birthdays if my mom will never leave me a voicemail singing happy birthday the whole way through ever again
Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kiana Khansmith
Claire Keane
Sweet Seals For You, Always
hello vonnie
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
h
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

izzy's playlists!
AnasAbdin
No title available

tannertan36

ellievsbear

Love Begins
dirt enthusiast
No title available

No title available

Kaledo Art
Not today Justin
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Hungary
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from Greece
seen from Netherlands

seen from Netherlands

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from France
seen from Estonia
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
@lilabird
what is the point of having birthdays if my mom will never leave me a voicemail singing happy birthday the whole way through ever again
I knew this while she was alive but my mom was the biggest light and glitter and shine to my life.
I feel now like I’m staggering in the dark in this new reality.
everything is without joy or luster.
I’ve lost my eyesight and my heart, my ability to touch the world, the same world that I thought I was a part of.
it’s too much for me to handle! being here, forever more alone now, without you.
I felt that a long road stretched before me and now I’m not sure, and I’m not sure that I care. I need to be held, I need to be cared for and looked after.
I don’t know if I can ever escape the way I feel. I can’t give it words. I can’t make it make sense to anyone else.
so much salt and mucus. from my throat and my eyes and my nose. my heart can’t find the air to breathe. I wish she was only on a trip. I wish I could find her somewhere on a map. I wish she could be found. anywhere
there’s no duplicate, no other replacement or stand in, no “good enough, this will do” in my life. it’s just the biggest hole I’ve ever seen
I don’t know if I believe in healing for this, I’m not sure that’s real for these kinds of things.
mom
I want a love like that and I’ll never have it again
I love my mom. I miss my mom.
8/10 times I keep it to myself
But the other times I have to find somewhere to put it. I was going to put it in my physical journal but I hid it away so nobody could find it and I’m too tired to rummage around for it. So I come here, just to get the thought “I really don’t want to live in a world without my mom anymore” off my chest, off my lungs, out of my heart and head. I have to say horrible honest things or I think I’ll have a heart attack sometimes. It’s like inducing yourself to puke. Getting it over with so you can hopefully feel better for a few hours or a few days, until you have to do it again.
I will never get over this until I’m dead. I’m so tired of it. The hurting. Feeling alone in it, even though my siblings are hurting just as bad if not worse.
Most days I have some energy because I take Ritalin now (yes it’s prescribed yes I have adhd tyvm). It helps for the first few hours of the day and eventually fades out. Then I get like this, exhausted by the idea of living. I want someone to tell me something I’ve not thought of living for already. Nothing and no one feels worth it.
I miss her stories. I miss asking her questions and her being honest with me. Why can’t I keep better humans around myself. I’m only able to love people that are never around.
Do I have to keep my eyes open all day everyday?????
I think my life has already been lived and whatever remains has got to be filler.
I wish I had some desire to keep living after my mom died but I don’t really.
I remember my dad telling us how he lost the will to live after his brother died, and both Rory and I were like “oh, we aren’t worth living for” and it’s like, wow the honesty. sometimes nothing is enough and nobody is enough and grief just swallows it all whole. it felt personal but it wasn’t. It’s just that big whale of sadness and that’s all there is.
I can’t think of anything I feel hopeful about. I wonder if it means I have to just sit and twiddle my thumbs until life is over. There’s nothing I want to accomplish. I’m never going to fall in love. I’m not going to be who I’d like to be.
I hadn’t realized how a majority of my identity was being my parent’s child. That’s how I’ve seen myself. Not as a mother or a parent or a lover or a friend or a student or a teacher or a worker but as their child. I don’t think I know how to be much of anything else.
I don’t mean that I was ever a good child or a good daughter. I wasn’t and haven’t been, really. But my only real ties to anyone or anything were my parents. They’re both basically gone for me at this point.
I’ve become a shell. A remnant.
our senses and our minds and our memories and our hearts hold onto many things, many things we can’t predict or prepare for. I try to notice, pay attention to, and voice the things these tools have gathered for me
like the risen veins in my mother’s hands. like lilacs and corduroy. the sound of my mother imitating a dog barking.
I love the song title by vashti bunyan “some things just stick in your mind.” It’s one of my most often contemplated questions - why do some experiences, smells, sounds, words, textures stay with us, but others do not? I try to grasp at and track the ones that stay in me… but I have no idea why they appear, often years or decades after the initial exposure, still fresh in my mind’s eye.
how much of it have I consciously chosen to hold onto and how much have I chosen to let go and forget about. is it me trying to save space for the things I really want to keep?
something I’m good at remembering is any comment anyone has made about music I love. down to specific songs and the exact words said about it. I can remember where the conversation took place. it’s weird!
that the world can exist without my mother feels false. the world’s more of a joke than it was before. it has nothing to do with reality.
I know it’s silly but I think about how I could live to be 80 and it’s like… that sounds fucking awful. 40 more years without my mom?? That’s dumb
it’s christmas eve. I’ve found myself occasionally hoping my life is shorter. I don’t know how I can keep doing this year after year.
for me 2025 has been the year of crying in bathtubs
fear led me to living a life I don’t want to live
sitting here in bed at 2am, newborn bunched up on my chest. feeling genuinely serene and blissed out about her. I haven’t felt truly happy in a long time… the feeling made me pause and want to soak it in further… such a rare feeling to feel this good.
sitting on an ice pack, boobs dripping milk, searching “nipple shields”
Rory at 2 days old: “you smell like a cafeteria fruit cup”
Being induced at 41 weeks (kill me) today and I really really really really wish my mom was alive.
I hate animal print sooooo much. My god it’s so uglyyyy
My heart is broke