I really need to tone down my attitude I'm broke and jobless and am acting as if I've got a ton of options right now.mtsmmm
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Endaa I just saw it's 365 subscribers and on the last dayyyyyy. I love when something like this happens like can you believe the coincidence Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy love y'all made my year.
Happy New Year!!!!!!
I hope this year is you being better than the last.
Happy New Year!!!!!!
I hope this year is you being better than the last.
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Forwarded from Wilderness Of The Soul
It's so fascinating seeing people not being able to enjoy the holiday without meat. 😂
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Yes, my grandma is feeling better, and now she's back to urging me to get married meanwhile am here trying to convince the kids to play with me.
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I don't even remember the last time my brother trusted my clumsy ass but today he did. And I didn't kill us both.
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Scribe your soul out
SpeckOfDust is amazing write that down everybody.
Demo this is not for the go fund me she is going to start for me, she is just amazing as a human being. And she knows why.
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I can speak of pain in a language I know well. I can describe its every corner, romanticize it with the words on my lips. I know the shape of suffering,the way it curls around my thoughts and takes root in my chest.
I know how to speak of what’s rotten, I can give voice to the hurt, to the parts of me that bleed and burn with every breath. But when it comes to healing, when it comes to mending the broken pieces, I stumble over words that feel foreign on my tongue words like “hope” and “repair.” I don’t know how to tell you what comes next how to speak of light after so much darkness.
All I know how to do is listen to your words without judgment, though sometimes I wish I could. Perhaps justice could be found in judgment, or maybe I’d understand what feels right to judge. I hope to find the right words someday, to speak of light as easily as I speak of shadows. I grasp truths I wish I didn't, fluent in the language of pain I wish I wasn't.
I know how to speak of what’s rotten, I can give voice to the hurt, to the parts of me that bleed and burn with every breath. But when it comes to healing, when it comes to mending the broken pieces, I stumble over words that feel foreign on my tongue words like “hope” and “repair.” I don’t know how to tell you what comes next how to speak of light after so much darkness.
All I know how to do is listen to your words without judgment, though sometimes I wish I could. Perhaps justice could be found in judgment, or maybe I’d understand what feels right to judge. I hope to find the right words someday, to speak of light as easily as I speak of shadows. I grasp truths I wish I didn't, fluent in the language of pain I wish I wasn't.
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Scribe your soul out
Am scared of love mostly yours.
Bullshit It's not fear, I tell you. You don't get scared of the idea of something. You don't flinch at a thought, you just feel its weight pressing down on you. I crave it, that thing just beyond reach, but I tell myself I'm scared. I know I'll never have it. A lie meant to comfort, to keep myself from the ache of dreaming too much for what I can't touch.
But they say never lie to your own diary. It's the only place you should be honest, even if that honesty cuts deeper than any deception you tell the world.
But they say never lie to your own diary. It's the only place you should be honest, even if that honesty cuts deeper than any deception you tell the world.