taylor price
Discoholic šŖ©
h
Claire Keane
wallacepolsom
ā
macklin celebrini has autism
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
Today's Document
trying on a metaphor
titsay
d e v o n
Love Begins
RMH
Keni
ā£ Chile in a Photography ā£
blake kathryn
izzy's playlists!
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from TĆ¼rkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@monicgayyy
Anniversary
Iāve missed you for 840 days. For 475 of those days you were still alive, for exactly 365 you were not. All of those numbers are eternally growing, expanding and multiplying into an empty, black forever, And I still need you. Thatās the damndest thing about it is I never stopped needing you. Iāve needed you for 9,336 consecutive days. Iāve needed you so damn badly itās knocked me to my knees.ā¦
View On WordPress
Anticipation
Swallowing each otherās sentences, Breathing in laughter off each otherās lips, The trailing of my fingers over the sliver of a collar bone, the tangle on your chest, the heat coming off your skin, Conjuring shivers in rivers along your back where my fingernails paint pictures, 3 inches and I can see your eyes like fairy lights drawing me in, 2 inches and Iām brushing your nose with mine,ā¦
View On WordPress
Empty Spaces
Iām learning about absence. I walk into my mothers house, your house, and Iām struck by the loudness of the silence. Thereās an emptiness that hangs in the air, and I can feel ghosts always just past my periphery. No, not ghosts. Ghost. I can feel your ghost following me, sitting next to me in your recliner, walking back and forth upstairs, singing silent songs that almost echo off the walls. Iā¦
View On WordPress
Lessons for the End
Thereās something that no one tells you about death: the patience. The hours and days and weeks and months on end of enduring. The feel of near strangers hands rubbing your back. The swallowed moments. The exclusion he never dealt you. The tolerance for every condolence, every comfort, every bit of contrived bullshit offered with fortune cookie wisdom. The cravings for a drink or a pill to drownā¦
View On WordPress
Game Point
When I think of you I think of sparkling eyes and belly laughs
I think of the ebb and flow of the word āperfect.ā I think of bated breath, holding out for that next kiss. I think of my whispered name, tracing my face with a touch like babyās breath. I think of fingers dancing down my spine in the middle of the night. I think of things unsaid, reading your gaze like an open book. When I thinkā¦
View On WordPress
The Fall of Atlas
I know what that feels like, holding the world at bay like Atlas.
Arms spread wide, straining against a dam you donāt remember building.
Carrying a warship above your head, arms shaking, breath rattling, muscles tearing under the weight. Bones long since ground to powder but the pressure overhead, that crushing heap of metal, now keeping you together. If someone saw it, pressed their palmsā¦
View On WordPress
On Loss
One night, a fire broke out. It crept across the forest floor, eating the fallen leaves and mulch and wood like so much kindling. It climbed up the tree trunks, sending out wandering fingers of flame higher, as if looking for a handhold. The higher branches continued to sway and clatter in the wind, careless of the heat below. When the smoke floated past, the highest boughs waved withoutā¦
View On WordPress
On Memory
Forget me.
Thatās right. Forget me, cast me off like a bad mood. Pull your arms out of my sleeves and let me fall to the floor. Put me in your pocket, shove me down to the seam, leave me there til I crumble and fall apart.
Forget my body first. Forget the curves of my waist and the silk of my skin. Drop my hands from yours, push my legs from your lap, nudge my head from your shoulder andā¦
View On WordPress
Hiding Between the Walls
My body blisters and burns. I am torn apart, beaten down, clawed and wrenched and ripped to shreds. Battered. Broken.
You turn your head. Smile. Your eyes glitter and gleam and donāt see a thing. How can you? These inner walls have suffered and strained against so many monsters. I count on the other side to be pretty. Demons scratch and scramble over the earth 3 feet of rock from paradise. Butā¦
View On WordPress
Loving a Ghost
For me it was always real, but no one told me I was alone when I was with you.
I keep a list of all the things I want to say to you, things I know would be lost because our language is not the same.
ā¦ Iām not okay.
ā¦ Iām still in love with the man you were but hate the man you are now.
ā¦ I would give anything to have the old you back.
ā¦ Every time I break down and reach out, Iā¦
View On WordPress
Letter to Him
Fuck you, baby.
It was cruel of you to ever let me love you. My weary heart was finally steady in my chest when I met
You.
Our eyes locked and I felt it like a tremor. The threat of the earthquake to come, devastating. The kind of disaster that cracks open the Earthās crust and reveals an underground world with mysteries untold.
Terrifying. Wonderful. Real.
And I was
Stuck
Struck
Fucked.
Youā¦
View On WordPress
Living with Your Trauma: How I Live with PTSD
I wake up in cold sweats. I feel hands on my neck, my legs, my pelvis. I twist away from these touches, but they follow me. Heās here. I open my eyes, turn on the lights, check the door, the window, the closet. Please donāt hurt me. Thereās nobody there.
Iām walking down the street. There he is. No, itās not him, but he has his eyes, his hair, his shoulders. I feel my breath catch, my heart rateā¦
View On WordPress
Home Alone For The Holidays: A Kiss-less Christmas
From couples taking adorable pictures in matching sweaters to B-list actors on the Hallmark channel replaying the same stories with slightly different titles, the holidays can be tough when youāre single.
Whether you bounce from relationship to relationship or youāve never had a honey, the only thing more depressing than a Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Diwali/ etc alone is a lonely Valentineās Day (andā¦
View On WordPress
Victim vs. Survivor: An Analysis of Two Seemingly Synonymous Terms
Sexual assault and rape have recently come to dominate mainstream dialogue, and with them comes the inevitable progression of the way in which we speak about them. Though I find it interesting that society at large has only started to care about sexual assault in the past 50 years (and I use that number loosely), in light of the current administration, sexual assault awareness has taken on anā¦
View On WordPress
The American Woman
Iām 6 years old. My father tells me I can be anything I want to be, maybe even president one day. He tells a joke about how a woman could never be president because sheād paint the White House pink and start a war over her period.
Iām 8 years old. I spend all of recess picking wildflowers and arranging them together in a little purse I sewed together myself with leaves and grass. I tell my friendā¦
View On WordPress
How to Squirt
Iāll be honest, in the realm of squirting, I am no expert. However, Iāve done it, and it was the most intense orgasm of my life, so Iām going to share how I got there. Hopefully, it helps you achieve the much-acclaimed skill that is female ejaculation.
First of all, what is squirting?
Squirting is the fun name for female ejaculation, which occurs when a liquid is released from the vagina duringā¦
View On WordPress
For your trigger warning needsā¦ Having been a victim of rape several times, I've been looking for a resource to vet movies, shows, books, etc for me so as to avoid painful and re-traumatizing triggers.