Let's get funky monkey

Raging through heaven earth and hell . villain on the rise . she/they/y'all, 30s, insane, fueled by hatred . #personal #silly quirks #the villain

[original-emo]

The vibes da'lin, the vibes

[tiktoks-for-dead-pope]

[killowave]

[mysharona1987]

[original-emo]

[achillesinhighheels]

[regging]

I LOVE MUSIC❤️❤️❤️

[knfwinthemorning-deactivated202]

[busket]

actually I think you're lying about your lived experience and the proof I have is that i asked the warped and evil strawman version of you that I built to live inside my mind and it said you're full of shit and you never have good intentions ever

[original-emo]

I actually thought of you today.

I dreamed you were out there living again, wondering what that would look like.

I even mourn on occasion.

Little reminders of laughter.

Little recollections of shared things.

Not so often anymore, but enough to know the hole is there.

I am a mad dog, nothing special. Heat death of a mind devouring itself alive. How many hurts can we each think up, strewn across all those years? You and I? One upon the other. How many wounds did we mend? How many tears did we wipe away?

I was angry when I said goodbye. Fed up. I don't regret it though.

I find myself wondering sometimes, when those lashings were being doled out for me. Was it him, you, both? Trying to trigger a response? To punish me? To keep me from, what, moving on? To shame me? To push me towards dispair? To drive me over the edge? I enjoyed it for the most part. The idea of him toiling away every day, coming up with "novel" ways to insult me. Ever wondering though, we're you participating?

I don't hate you. I don't hate him. He is, smol, and inconsequential, and i can't bring myself to care that deeply in regards to his antics.

You mattered though. Not in the way you thought, apparently, but you did matter.

At some point, we stopped understanding one another.

Misinterpretations of people we no longer knew.

Words will never do.

Agreements will never be made.

Just, numb disappointment,

And a feeling of relief.

[original-emo]

[spillways-mp3]

[original-emo]

Love to see it 😂

[original-emo]

God, I would eat the fuck out his pussy

[watchfreeonlineleigh]

I hope an ICE agent is killing himself right now

[original-emo]

Me, from elsewhere 😂

I think the term "homoerotic gothic cosmic horror romance" is my new favorite term

But, also, my favorite term is entropic romance, which, honestly, this show is

[the-silent-troubadour]

[cesspool-thinkspace]

My grandmother is dying. She has been suffering from COPD for 20 years, and this year, after being constantly ignored by her doctors as she and my mother tried to explain the pain she was feeling, discovered that she was eaten alive by cancer across nearly every organ she possesses.

For many years, she has had a reproduction of this painting hanging beside her chair, where her life has dissolved around her. She has been gazing at it. Drawing people's attention to it. She didn't know the story behind it, but she understood it, told us what it meant to her. She had dreams she saw in this painting.

We expect she will be passing on any day now. She has laughed, wept, raged, lashed out, consoled, and tried to impart final wisdoms through increasing incoherency. This woman was a force, a power, who passed on a thirst of life in me that, quite frankly, is why I haven't been able to end it in those utmost darkest times. The world was once hers, and slowly, painfully, her ability to partake in it withered, as her own body wasted away and trapped her in place.

As I have sat with her, trying to cling to every moment, my eye has continuously drifted up to this painting. I have felt it lay heavy upon me as I've tried to hold back tears when near her. Knowing this information has made it even more profound.

I don't know what i am trying to say. No point I am trying to make. Just a, need to discuss my grandmother, and how much strength she has drawn from this painting, not knowing it's story, but understanding it all the same.