found in my 4am drafts folder:
spiritually, i am a bulldozer
wait i’m not done excavating the 4am Drafts Folder
insects don’t have their own blood so if u smoosh an insect and there’s blood inside–that’s stolen blood. externally heisted fluid
i can honestly think of no higher Life’s Aspiration than being an pinata? hit me with wooden clubs and make me explode into confetti and candy, that’s my ideal afterlife you fruit loop
oh you put together playlists in a certain “order,” so that they form a certain “cohesion” of attributes such as “rhythm” and “mood.” fucking weak
the ole “toning down my personal clothing choices in order to visually pass as cishet” or as I like to call it: Incognito Mode
*1990s jewelry advertisement voice* give her the gift that fits her perfectly. give her a cheese wheel stolen from the subterranean government cheese caves
I honestly don’t know
I’m crying due to >life< so here is a thought: Classic Mid Life Crisis ™ are poor, misguided attempts to heal the inner child. Its always the lost dream, thing they spent their teen years wishing they could own but could never afford and all the things they wanted as a child but was never allowed to get. and it ends up screwing over the ppl in their life bc not having to worry about consequences were probably something they could never get over when they transitioned to being a taxpayer.
























