he’s gone and nothing is good anymore. I love you.
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Kiana Khansmith
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EXPECTATIONS

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@timburtondroppedthesideshow
he’s gone and nothing is good anymore. I love you.
Thank you for kissing me
and letting it stop there.
After my pants were unbuttoned
but only halfway down my hips.
In your bed, holding me
down under the weight of false
expectations and no time left to say
No.
Thank you for taking me
to the diner and ordering
food for me, even though
neither of us like
to be seen eating
anyway. In the…
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Waking Up Half-Naked in Someone Else’s Bed
Waking Up Half-Naked in Someone Else’s Bed
When I opened my eyes I remembered that my socks matched this morning. Mid-calf crews with little pink hearts and holes where the heels should be. Now— my left foot is a cotton kitty cat smiling up at me. The right is a threadbare brown and blue with white argyle squares.
My underwear are gone. This is not my pillow and these are not my sheets.
I remember red cups, disco lights, and dark…
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ways to start feeling again
sit in the sun without anything to do, feel the heat of the rays hit your skin, realize that this sunlight has travelled a very long way to reach you
walk around barefoot and try to feel as much of the ground under your feet as you can, notice every rock and blade of grass
sit quietly for a while and notice the touch of breath in your nostrils, feel how the air gets cooler as you inhale and warmer as you exhale
drive around aimlessly and blast some of your favorite songs, scream/sing along to them and feel the vibrations of your favorite lyrics as they change the air in your throat and around you, feel that the music is healing you from the inside out
stay away from alcohol or drugs for a few days, try to be as aware and present as you can in every moment, stop trying to numb or dull your senses
eat a few meals without any distractions, notice every bite and taste every flavor that covers your tongue, be grateful for it all
look up at the stars and the moon, understand how small we all are and how immense the universe is, realize what a miracle everything is, let your heart swell with amazement and admiration for life itself
2/18: My battery is low, and it's getting dark
2/18: My battery is low, and it’s getting dark
Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I’m trying to reach you.
I hear you I hear you Is this my last chance? Please, listen.
I’m far from the Earth&sun My battery is low, and it’s getting dark Can you hear me? Don’t …
Thank you I’ll see you around Goodnight.
MAN MAVEN AND MARS RED WINE HOT CAKE WINKY DANCE LOVE PICNIC ALIVE SPACE
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1/29: Tuesday
It’s Tuesday.
For some reason, I cannot convince myself it is a Tuesday. Maybe because it is snowing. It looks like it could be morning, noon, or night. The whiteout has thrown off my perception of time. I couldn’t get out of the house, so I sat in front of my computer and learned about computer binary and coding. The very object in front of me was being deconstructed. I was reading it’s…
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Inventory (1/30)
Cold feet
Dirty laundry
Flush
Mint flavor
Weight
Lukewarm coffee
Wrappers
Keys
Ice scraper
Cold feet
Headlights
Door open button
Desk
Eraser leavings
Carpal tunnel
Poor posture
Busy
Cold tea
Pills
Intermission
Hand dryer
Alone
Wrappers
Back
Desk
Back pain
Loud fingers
Dry eyes
Torn paper
Nod
Dismissal
Door open button
Keys
Headlights
High beams
Headlights
High beams
Headlights
Home
Key
The other…
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1/20: My mind is on holiday
Sometimes looking in the mirror surprises me. I get taken aback as if I have forgotten entirely that’s what I look like. Shocked that I exist at all. I feel like if I touch my face it will come apart like puzzle pieces and layers. Piecing apart skin, muscle, then bone. I missing pieces.
If I touch my cheeks, my hand will come away with fingers coated in my skin pigment. I can wipe it all away to…
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1/14: Behind Mental Walls
1/14: Behind Mental Walls
Today’s newspaper headlines gave me a moment of pause. One describes political tension between U.S. security officials and Iran, the government shutdown, and shooting of gay Puerto Rican artist, Kevin Fret. Other editions spanning different regions describe similar stories with bold Times New Roman and Arial typeface. The number of opioid related deaths are up. Trump. Trump. Trump. Instructions…
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1/10: Lemons The jar on my psychiatrist's desk looks like an urn. Glazed white porcelain with painted yellow lemons and green leaves coming from their stems.
1/5
I don’t know what to do with myself when it rains.
I find myself with feet in puddles, cold as the waters that wash them and rainbow oiled tar that imprint my walk.
I dont keep umbrellas, anymore.
I prefer to see them waiting for people in suits in hotel lobbies, or poking out the top of children’s frog and ladybugs backpacks.
My clothes smell like groundwater.
My hair is stiff with acid rain.
I…
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1/6
I find myself Wanting to tell you things that don’t need to be told. Thoughts that have no logical response. Far from dinner conversation. Like:
“I’m thinking about buying a new can opener. A better one. You know how mine such thin handles? I think its beginning to rust. I’m going to buy a strong can opener with rubber grip handles, I think. Red. To match the towels.”
Or,
“The average gestation…
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Shut down
Readers,
How do you tell someone (anyone) that you arent doing well- when you havent been well every time they’ve asked? For months, maybe years now, every “how have you been?” has been met with a pained smile and sometimes a forced response of “Oh, you know. Same shit, different day”. I’ve hit a new low and I haven’t gotten out. I just keep falling.
Some friends have only known the “me” that was…
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Everyone Keeps Talking About Their Childhoods
Everyone Keeps Talking About Their Childhoods
What did you want to be when you grew up?
Childhood best friend?
What games did you play?
But what if I can’t remember? It’s like I left the synapse fires in a toy chest when I packed up and left my last childhood home. I neatly arranged the memories I think I have of playgrounds and bike rides in Play-Dough containers and shoved them under my bed. They’re dried up in mixed color kaleidoscope…
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Active Self-Destruction
Readers, Maybe after months of selective mutism any readers who know the story thus far (any?) would hope because I’m getting my life on track. The tracks have gone and I’ve been just as lost as I’ve been. More so at times like this. I am destroying myself quiet actively, if not intentionally. It’s like this: imagine taking a zippo lighter around your house and methodically lighting your…
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The fact that nobody is talking about Secret’s new commercials pisses me off
This makes me so happy ☺️
Yesssss😭 I damn near cried
I LOVE THIS OMFG
YOOOOOOOOOOO THATS AMAZING!!!!!
Can someone help me understand I wanna cry to ..I feel something went over my head
The woman in the bathroom is trans and is scared that if she comes out of the stall the women that walked in will insult or harass her. but when she comes out they compliment her on her dress instead. The add ends with saying “stress tested for women.” It means Secret is including trans women in their definition of women.
I have reblogged this three times now, each one mentioning the fact that Secret not only included a trans woman, but that they /had the other women compliment her dress and treat her with respect/. I will reblog this every time I see it because it’s so important. More companies should involve trans people in their marketing - we do exist. Props to Secret for getting in on this movement. It makes me really happy to see more of the trans community represented in daily television.
Reblog the shit out of this
We need more positive things like this!
Okay but I did cry
Wishing strength for individuals with eating disorders this Thanksgiving and have to be a dinners.