embroidery of some electric pylons on an old doiley
we're not kids anymore.
trying on a metaphor
AnasAbdin
noise dept.

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I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty
h

romaâ
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

ellievsbear
wallacepolsom

@theartofmadeline

â
styofa doing anything
Today's Document

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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Keni

seen from India

seen from Hungary

seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Israel

seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from T1
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seen from TĂźrkiye
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seen from TĂźrkiye
@potatoskeletons
embroidery of some electric pylons on an old doiley
a watched nut never busts. or something. i dont fucking know what you people find funny anymore. 9/11.
why is this the one
good morning to horror fans, fat bitches, people with psychosis, they/thems, people who canât drive, trans women, witches, and single dads. the rest of you... youâre on your own
happy decemberr! heres abigail based on newdad's madra album cover :)
thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.
Is this post 6 months late? Perhaps.
But you see, you give me Lestat in Leyendecker's robe - it results in a fanart of Lestat wearing it, that's inevitable. I cannot resist a good art history reference. It's the ultimate bait.
Die temu ad die
Hmm. Accidentally looks like latin.
It accidentally is latin
Aren't we all!!
all i think about is Palestine
Ů٠٠ا ŘŁŮŮŘą ŮŮŮ ŮŮ ŮŮسءŮŮ
nobodys paying attention to me so im going to microwave forks and knives
you want me to go to work for 8+ hours? like, every day?
you want me to go
to work for 8+ hours?
like, every day?
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
you are cordially invited to my pretentious son's french new wave-themed bar mitzvah. you may note the ironic tone of his dvar torah and the use of jump cuts in his childhood photos slideshow.
Going for a run is like this is the worst thing thatâs ever happened to anyone ever I feel so much better
Clocked
My good friend El Chupacabra got tickets to a Mountain Goats concert and I donât think she knows and I donât have the nerve to break her heart
cursed with "do you still like me?" "are you mad at me?" "did i do something wrong?" disorder
im not 17 anymore and i should find something new to talk about but remember when ophelia said âi hope all will be wellâ (4.5)
pain is stored in the shakespearean woman
this isnât an original thought by any means but when shakespeare wanted to examine the depths and nuance of human suffering it was almost always most effective in his women. you got the articulate outbursts (oh god that i were a man i would eat his heart in the marketplace) (grief fills the room up of my absent child. have i not reason, then, to be fond of grief?) (the time was, father, that you broke your word) etc etc but tbh what gets me is how often theyâre the ones to sorta metatextually admit that somethingâs unspeakable, which is a wild thing to do in a shakespeare play. romeo monologues in the sepulcher for a long time but juliet says âiâll be briefâ/lady macbeth canât talk about it at all she sleeptalks and kills herself offstage/isabellaâs told sheâs getting married and never speaks again/ hamlet talks and talks and talks bc heâs convinced he can work it all out that way as if thereâs something to understand about pain besides that it hurts, but she doesnât try to explain her songs to anybody. unhappy that i am i cannot heave my heart into my mouth etc
I heard too many sounds at once and now I am a bitch