she's the mourning rat

this is a secondary blog do make yourself at home.

[luperina]

printed picture of my great-grandma on a silk slip

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

Wet beast wednesday IF you even care

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

WET BEAST WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 21 EDITION

[thoughtkick]

“Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.”

— Tyrion Lannister

[byjove]

if a girl tried to sacrifice me to the old gods that would be totally fine and I would submit but if a guy did that I would fight back a little

[byjove]

unless he was really hot I guess (the god or the guy)

[lacrimalis]

in which case it is appropriate to fight back for homoerotic reasons

[byjove]

Not me, I’m a pacifist. I just make sad pathetic little noises while he strikes me and look up at him with my honest big brown eyes. He knows he killed a good man and it punishes him more than any physical harm I could do to him.

[lacrimalis]

ohhhh if you hit him with that 🥺 hard enough he'll never land the killing blow

[byjove]

I’m so patheticcore. I’m such a poor little meow meow.

[lacrimalis]

any decent man would take u in and nurse u back to health under the patronage of the old gods he once foolishly believed he could bring himself to sacrifice u to

[byjove]

(he doesn’t know I am loved by all of the gods and by showing me clemency he saved himself from all manner of ills and perils)

[theyouth--waste-it]

What the fuck are you two talking about

[byjove]

homoerotic failed human sacrifice

[dormouseking]

Pretty fucked up that queer people’s emotional development is usually like

0-12: childhood

12-22: t̷̬̳̫̜̬͙̯̝̤͌̇h̷̗̾̃̂̓̿̚̕̚ͅͅë̴̡̙̟͚͖͖̟́ ̶͙̲̱͍̝̔̔̾̾́d̴̛̫͚̳̫̈́̐̒̀̏̑̀͝ä̶̯͔͓͇̮̱̠͉́̓̋̌̈́̔̏ͅr̶̹̳̣̭̞̳̱͔͌ͅk̷̲̜͙̝̲̿̐̓ņ̷̢͔̺̤͕͕͓͋̐͆̈́̇́̆͜͠e̵͇͗̍͂̚ṣ̶̟̼̩́̍̉s̴̥̐̅ ̶̢̜͉͚͍̉̓͑̒̑͝o̵̧̠̙̐͗́̋͊̿̈́͛̉f̸̫͊̐̀̈́̕͝ͅ ̸̭̺͓̘̪́͝t̷̛̺͆̈́͘h̸͚̺̣͍̃̇̈́͑͋è̷̙͙͍͇͈͉͎̔̂̚ ̵͍̥̈́̆̆̐v̶͖̈̐̓͋̍̈́͘o̴̳͖͊͛̋i̸̙̾͂͆̈̓d̵̢̩͓̻͎̲͓̓͜

22-30: adolescence

[psychoticrambling]

another common one is

0-12: [memories redacted ‘cause trauma]

12-22: t̷̬̳̫̜̬͙̯̝̤͌̇h̷̗̾̃̂̓̿̚̕̚ͅͅë̴̡̙̟͚͖͖̟́ ̶͙̲̱͍̝̔̔̾̾́d̴̛̫͚̳̫̈́̐̒̀̏̑̀͝ä̶̯͔͓͇̮̱̠͉́̓̋̌̈́̔̏ͅr̶̹̳̣̭̞̳̱͔͌ͅk̷̲̜͙̝̲̿̐̓ņ̷̢͔̺̤͕͕͓͋̐͆̈́̇́̆͜͠e̵͇͗̍͂̚ṣ̶̟̼̩́̍̉s̴̥̐̅ ̶̢̜͉͚͍̉̓͑̒̑͝o̵̧̠̙̐͗́̋͊̿̈́͛̉f̸̫͊̐̀̈́̕͝ͅ ̸̭̺͓̘̪́͝t̷̛̺͆̈́͘h̸͚̺̣͍̃̇̈́͑͋è̷̙͙͍͇͈͉͎̔̂̚ ̵͍̥̈́̆̆̐v̶͖̈̐̓͋̍̈́͘o̴̳͖͊͛̋i̸̙̾͂͆̈̓d̵̢̩͓̻͎̲͓̓͜

22-30: learning how to function

[parsleii]

Whenever my friends told me

that they were going to Paris,

my lips would tighten

As if these words were ready to spill over:

"Please come and see him,

and tell him how much I love him."

[heartlessqueen]

this journaling page is brought to you by my dramatic ass and is literally about plants dying

[tamsoj]

Jules Laforgue, tr. by William Jay Smith, Selected Writings; “The Cigarette,”

[parsleii]

One month before departure

I know the world is burning, infected, infecting.

And I know at night my heart gnaws despite of it all. I cling and cling to what I have now though at some point I have relented, accepting the inevitable.

One month.

One more month of what have become my comfort zone - an independence, a comfortable space I can call my home, Pietro and Marco the plant. The friends and colleagues who greet me every morning with all the jokes and penguins. All the Italian experience, the cheese and the wine, the men and the museums. The feeling of being in power for working and studying at the same time.

The feeling of being on top of the world, I can move mountain.

The yoga routine, the growth.

Why am I so afraid? Is this something I can overcome then? Is London not enough? Or maybe I am just too used to tensing, being anxious over nothing?

I have not talked to Watermelon in a while, I withdraw. What’s the point of a doomed relationship? If I am to take the next flight to Amsterdam, it will not make any difference.

I have stalled and stalled and stalled. I still don’t want to go back (I have to).

I think a year from now I will understand. I will see how London is better in every way, just like how not being at Oxford gave birth to the best story I could ever have.

It has everything to do with surrendering. Knowing consciously that my stay in Rome is not sustainable.

Chronos looks down at me, compassionately. “It’s time.”

I am achieving catharsis.

By the time I step on Fiumicino, taking that FL1 train I’ve been taking since last year. My suitcases and heart, and every bits of my soul ready.

I will move forward.

But my love not tonight, not tonight my love. Tonight I torture myself and succumb, I break myself and tear into pieces. And what’s important is that I forgive and allow myself for feeling this way.

It’s human to hurt.

But then, I will move forward.

At home everything will be quick. I am needed I am missed. The time has never been more appropriate to reconnect and remember my roots. Remember the locals, remember my best mate and the cafes, the food and the honest-to-god-too-sweet black tea. By the time everything is bleak and cold up north, I will be enjoying my sun. And Watermelon will stay where he is, as glorious as a Greek god, the moon by his side, never moving for now. At times I will look back, I will say not more than 5 words “I miss you, thank you.”

I shall go where I need to go. 

London will be something else - a mix of nostalgia and novelty. Opening a new chapter with an old soul, brief but feels right. I will look back and be grateful I leave in October.

[kafkasdiariies]

Rome, Italy | Alisa Anton

[parsleii]

what am i but a potato with anxiety

[parsleii]

i am frailty, either/or in a state of frailty

[softsorcery]

[pyrrhics]

Vampire Hunter D, Bloodlust

[vizuart]

Antonio Corradini - Modesty (1752)

[parsleii]

143rd day of 2020

One year and one day after my Bachelor’s graduation.

I am partially in shambles, partially invincible. I’m thriving despite the ongoing pandemic just like my aloe vera plant in my room, Pietro. Pietro is thriving and he’s thriving well.

I am in shambles because, after a lot of careful consideration, I conclude that I’m not feeling mentally well, and this is irregardless of whether I’m having my period or not. People say it’s normal to feel isolated. I honestly feel like I’m so far away from everyone despite the constant messaging and pour-your-heart-out type of communication on the day-to-day basis. It would’ve been easier if we could have all just meet like the good old days at the Yellow Bar. Gone is the group laughter and gone is the whimsical flirt when the sky goes dark. Now Peach has slipped through my fingers and my room has echoed and ached since.

We are entering a strange age. Having an optimistic mentality is not enough at times.

It’s really tough to fight off the instinct to go back to being jaded.

But I am also invincible because I’ve experienced a tremendous amount of growth and everything seems to be falling into place, like my education and my professional career. At this stage there has been a couple of things I’ve left behind for such growth. A year ago, I never thought I would’ve come this far. A year from now, I’d like to think that I’m more confident than before - managing life and saving lives in a changing world.

But now, I’m simply missing it. Being on the clock, on the go. If I can say something to the universe, I want to ask for more meaning because things are starting to feel meaningless again. I know the fight is for myself, but that’s not enough. I’m fighting for the betterment of the world, but that’s not enough.

Give me a soul worth fighting for, I’ll be all sorted.

If I’m lucky, this soul will find mine worth fighting for, too.

[weltenwellen]

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[parsleii]

I saw him again, in my feeds. He’s as beautiful as ever, with that lips that never fully form a smile.

He is truly, irrevocably beautiful.

I am numb, and I am still afraid. Though I am in a much better place now, I still question myself what I’ve done to be hurt like this by him.

I thought I had healed. I thought I had forgiven. But the past pain, it follows me.

I asked the wall today how I could unhurt myself. To undo this. To find peace.

The walls were silent.