hurr hurr I'm a human body hurr hurr I'm gonna solve all my problems using mucus
"i require more fluids" well what did you do with the fluids I already gave you. hmm? did you make more mucus with them? you made more mucus with them.
RMH
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola

Kaledo Art
No title available

if i look back, i am lost
Xuebing Du

ellievsbear
we're not kids anymore.
i don't do bad sauce passes

Origami Around

★
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
DEAR READER

PR's Tumblrdome
wallacepolsom
Misplaced Lens Cap
Monterey Bay Aquarium

titsay
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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@sleepybreeze
hurr hurr I'm a human body hurr hurr I'm gonna solve all my problems using mucus
"i require more fluids" well what did you do with the fluids I already gave you. hmm? did you make more mucus with them? you made more mucus with them.
My GOD this MV is beautiful
I made some new shirts. 🌿🐅🌿
Hand-printed with a GOCCO screen. The screenprinting carousel for 2+ colours is fun.
I'll have a limited number of these at Thought Bubble '23 this month!
I feel like abandoning everything. To somewhere with no waiting eyes. no one listening to my heavy footsteps or my shallow breath. where I am no one but a fake death.
zombie zombie
born again or just procrastinating?
Drowning
https://soundcloud.com/claralasan ig : https://www.instagram.com/mxyten/ tchat : discord.gg/YwDynKHMzh
mmmmm thats good
feels like exhaling the whole galaxy
Long exposure of a car at night, 1954.
@Robert Doisneau
Strength
As a kid I used to look up to gurus and old wise men who seemed at peace with and understood everything, no matter how painful it was to everyone else. Everything seemed to make sense to them or, if it didn't then they were okay with it. That was my vision of someone who was perfectly stable. Although I was scared to admit it, I knew I had to experience painful things so that I could learn to be like them and be at peace, no matter what happened. I sort of looked forward to it, but I knew it was a risk. Now, after surviving, I see how I adapt. My body builds calluses. My soul builds indifference. My hands are stiff and sweaty and my head hurts with rage. My eyes move fast. My shoulders are tight. My heart is crowded and chained with loss or guilt. My tears are afraid. So what is strength then? Today, my strength will be eating my defense. Trust the strength of my soul to be naked in this sentimental wild
Compulsively biting my lip rn. its so uh uh uh uuuhhh
(frybagger)
Keep going to work your landlord depends on you.
Blessed and
"gifted" and with job security and marketable degrees and career opportunities and with a family that loves and a healthy body and good food and a place to sleep and many skills and experiences and bilingual and decent looks and connections and
ultimately, without direction. All that. No aim. Everything to achieve. All the priviledge to pass the time. Waiting for something to begin hoping for nothing to end.
so cute :)
““Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” - Rumi”
—
more people would be for prison abolition if they just tried to send mail to an inmate even once
for almost a year now i’ve been trying to send a copy of the literary magazine i edit to an inmate who requested one. his prison prohibits any written materials that so much as mention drugs, weapons, criminal activity, or malicious violence of any sort. i’ve been poring over what’s available of the 95 volumes my magazine has printed over the years, and of those found 3 that might pass inspection. the first two were sent back undelivered two months after i sent them because one had a short story that alluded to a playground fight, and the other a poem that used the word “fist” in a nonviolent context. The third was returned for the stated reason that its contents depicted the use of firearms. i reread the entire issue, there’s not a single gun mentioned in all its 120 pages.
while going back and forth with this guy trying to figure out how to get a copy of the magazine in his hands, two of my letters bounced back for unspecified reasons. i learned that inmates are not given their correspondents’ original letters, but scanned copies, often poorly reproduced and sometimes illegible. these people aren’t even granted the ink their loved ones used to pen their messages, or to hold in their hands the paper their loved ones held, if they’re able to receive their words at all.
lost my phone on an uber today. lost my student id (sentimental & also my bus pass), been subbing for my teacher's classes, some of my own students have been so disruptive, im drowning in hw, gave up on turning in my credential application this academic year, might have covid, my internet is shit on my desktop hence I, can't watch youtube over 144p and play any online games. Just constantly feel like im gonna have a heart attack or pass out or cry my eyes out or punch somebody or multiple at the same time. Im fucking tired.