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24 - she/her - sapphic
Personal blog - Reblogs, random photos, occasional craft projects, drawings or poetry when I have the courage <3
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
One Nice Bug Per Day

if i look back, i am lost
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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Product Placement
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
YOU ARE THE REASON

Andulka

⁂

PR's Tumblrdome
AnasAbdin

oozey mess
almost home

★
seen from Australia
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seen from France

seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from T1

seen from Singapore
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seen from Netherlands

seen from Singapore
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seen from Spain
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@overthhinker
pinned post wip
24 - she/her - sapphic
Personal blog - Reblogs, random photos, occasional craft projects, drawings or poetry when I have the courage <3
It’s like I overthink my overthinking
It’s interesting that scientists have documented homosexual behaviours in over 1500 species. But only one species has documented homophobia. So what really is unnatural? Something that can be found in 1500 species or something cruel and hateful that’s been found in one.
And that my friends is why Pride Month is still so important. Yes, it is about celebration. It is about joy, love, community, and being visible without apology. But it is also about walking for those who cannot. Speaking for those who have been silenced, and standing for those who still live in countries where being LGBTQIA+ is criminalised, punished, or treated as something shameful.
Pride is a reminder to every government, every lawmaker, and every person who still believes otherwise: all love is beautiful, all identities deserve dignity, and every LGBTQIA+ person has the right to exist freely.
Yes yes i know love is love. But they are still killing CHILDREN. over this.
if overthinking burned calories i would be unstoppable
Overgrowth
I never had to ask to know— like breath, like pulse, like something pressed deep into bone. It has always lived in me. There was no revelation, no sudden bloom— only the slow untangling of what was always there.
But you look at me like overgrowth, like something unwelcome curling through cracks, roots pushing up through pavement, breaking the lines you traced in stone— unnatural, you say, though it grows all the same.
And I will not apologize for the way I wish to hold her.
You don’t know why it unsettles you— only that it does. That it takes up space where you never meant to leave any.
You mistake my hands for something reaching too far, my mouth for something tainted, because they love gently and without shame. You say love should not feel like this— as if love must bend to your will, must bloom only where you allow.
But love is wild by nature. It does not yield to walls built from fear. It moves in ways you do not expect— it is soft and unshaken, pressing against my ribs and against a body you swore I was never meant to love.
When she looks at me, I feel it like sunlight— heavy and warm where it rests on my chest. You see the way she holds me, and it bothers you, though you cannot say why. Still, you call it unnatural— as if love were a thing to be tamed, as if it needed your permission to exist.
As if the rain asks before it falls. As if the ivy begs before it climbs.
As if I could be anything but this.
Please remember that Pride is important because someone tonight still believes they’re better off dead than being themselves.
24 feeling a bit more like 60
I wanna mute my overthinking.
I don’t feel ready for my birthday this year.
She was always the first person to message me happy birthday at midnight. I don’t want to turn an age she’ll never get to see. It feels like another reminder of the permanence of her being gone.
That I will grow older and live longer without her than I ever did with her.
Five months without her already feels impossibly long. Every holiday since has felt like a small confirmation that the world is continuing without someone who was supposed to still be here. It still doesn’t feel right, not for how much she meant or the presence she held.
Our little stupid conversation means more to me than you think
Grief is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go
— Jamie Anderson