My insecurities surround me like lions in a den And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again Slowly I remember why I cannot pretend That I never think of you in all this screaming silence •Oh God, I wish you were here•
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@lovelyshadeviridian
My insecurities surround me like lions in a den And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again Slowly I remember why I cannot pretend That I never think of you in all this screaming silence •Oh God, I wish you were here•
Thinking about board games.
Technical difficulties
Standby
We appreciate your patience
To my best friend, who often sees me struggle with decision paralysis;
Loving you is the closest thing I have to second nature.
to my soul mate, ever-changing; so am I
Craving intimacy in a form that I once had but can no longer.
Our connection is changed forever and perhaps it is for the best but I always find myself wanting that which was once there despite everything.
Talking about Greece's Favorite Goddess of Spring
I posted about this somewhere else already but I love persephone and hades in 'the rebellious runaway' kind of way. Like fuck yeah I love a couple who come up with this whole cover how* she went missing picking flowers meanwhile she was getting the best dick of her life from a man who is the ultimate adjudicator of the dead. Peresphone to me is the true embodiment of spring in the most violent & manic way possible. I want her making death cults to her husband, making pilgrimages to the underworld every autumn, burning the river styx with radical rebirth and relief to the lost souls. Her lovers will be fanatic sacrifices to their radiant mistress and her true lord: The God of the Dead. I want her to be a god who delights in the painful thin edge of life so she may truly marvel at the awesome face of her lover. I want her mania to wash the world in destructive life, clawing it's way into existence. A creature that hunts and is hunted. A creature that bristles with the touch of death and yet feeds on the decay of those before to drive it's life forth. An unstable variable. A deeply feeling and violently capable creation.
Beautiful, Radiant; Inevitable. *edit cause spelling is bad :D
What am I, a bee? Are You trying to tell me where the sarcophagus is by dancing?
Me, begging Sebastian to just fuck me on the sarcophagus.
I've been working on a tiny Grimoire that I've been putting in spell work and lunar studies.
Decorated it with a nice little mushroom witch, a hot mothman, and (not pictured) a hot Audrey II Venus Flytrap.
Christmas Tree
O, Christmas Tree
How lovely are
Thy branches
My insecurities surround me like lions in a den And I feel like I’m losing touch with what I am again Slowly I remember why I cannot pretend That I never think of you in all this screaming silence •Oh God, I wish you were here•
It's true. It's all true.
I'm not 17 anymore
And everything really did get better.
Christmas Tree
O, Christmas Tree
How lovely are
Thy branches
Thoughts at a Birthday Party
I said to my sister the year of 2007 to 2008 was a blur, void of distinction and feeling.
It was just breadsticks.
I don't remember failing math, I don't remember friends I saw, I don't remember trips I had. I remember eating breadsticks. I remember spending any pocket money I had on lunch at school. It was always breadsticks. She told me she remembered it all, it was almost painful how slow it was. "I'll trade you." She said. I don't know which is worse. Losing yourself or falling apart?
Check out these bottles I got!
(ignore my counter)
It is I 🎉
The birthday babe 🥳
Come for all my birthday spoils!! 😈
Some rad little finds I got updating some of my herb collection:
Velvet boi
Cone incenses
A very cool leaf
A super cool spoon
Pinecone
I fucking love this little altar* table. It's literally perfect.
"Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it yet I don't carry a scratch"
I heard that quote before but today it rattled in my head differently than usual. Because the truth is I do, actually, have many scratches and marks on me. It maybe isn't beautiful, or kind, or selfless, but I left those marks on myself. A me that is more feral and more desperate than I'm willing to admit. A me who has fought everyone including myself to stay alive, to stay here.
Maybe it's not as romantic. It's not healthy for sure..
But there's something almost beautiful in it. A younger me; who was so nurtured in anger and survival and self hatred, with all of their careless love and violence demanded I survive. Cutting, screaming, punching, just praying it was all enough self preservation and kindness to keep me here..
Way to go, you angry goblin child, you did it. We are still here. Scars and all.