I Dont Know - Blog Posts

i'm a disease. a lethal, deadly disease. everything i touch ends up ruined. i'm ruined and i'm ruining others. everyone would just be better off if i dropped dead.

Memory Musings

Her heart stilled as she thought of him.

The shine in his chestnut eyes as he laughed at something she said.

Running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of the right words to say.

He was frozen in her memory, forever a twenty-something man with a smile that stopped her in her tracks, and always had.

She wondered if he still thought of her.

If it made him ache to imagine her still singing along to that song.

If it made him feel just as sad to know that memories of each other will fade as they both get older; that jokes shared in the back of a car, late night text chats, and whispered secrets would soon become distant fever dreams of a life that could be.

ppl will be like “i support dark content” and then if it’s any other dark content that isn’t yandere fiction they get upset

Your Faith Has Made You Complacent (And Thus Your Pride Will Bring You To Ruin)

Another piece inspired by @m1d-45. I have normally have great impulse control unless it's writing. Then this happens.

Instincts honed

Through years of wear

It has led them well

When their heart was torn

And their mind in shambles

So why?

Why is it now

That they fail to listen?

It pulls back 

Desperate to get away

To plead for forgiveness 

For ignorance and arrogance 

They do not listen 

Not this time

Emotions surge 

As their heart thunders

Their mind races 

Ignoring the sirens that blare

They raise their blade

Even as something 

Someone?

In the back of their head howls

The weapon plunges 

Sinking into soft flesh

The thud of a guillotine

A hasty execution 

It is a graceless death 

That prickles their skin

As a sense of wrongness settles

Something is not right

When they fall to their knees?

Why were they trying to heal the dead?

Why did their soul ache?

Why does it feel so wrong?

Oh.

What have they done?

The ask questions thing is open!!!

Ask my silly ocs questions and i will answer!!

[This character sheets are old. My art is much better than this]

Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha???????!!!1?2?2?2?1?1? they are chemistry related core

Listening to this song feels different after reading this post.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

Addicted

I don’t know how we reached the point that your apartment feels like home

Your bed sheets smell like me

There are shirts specifically chosen for me to put on at night when I’m coming over

Your fridge stores my favorite foods

Your shower gel is the one I once left there

I’m laying in your bed right now,

You’re at work already, your alarm always wakes me up first, but I rarely stay awake until you’re out the door

I feel at home here

You’re my home

But we don’t even consider each other dating

We’re just us

Complicated

But nevertheless addicted

A process I’m still stuck in

Missing you makes me feel weak

You shouldn’t miss someone who broke you

Someone who took advantage of your kindness

Someone who made you feel worthless, still does

Someone who treats you like an option

Someone who does not care if they hurt you

Someone who never thinks twice

Someone like you

But I still do

Learning to be alone again is a process I’m still stuck in

But deep down I know

Missing you is better than being mistreated by you

So fuck missing someone like you

~ excerpts of me moving on ~

Why am I like this

Sometimes I open tumblr because I feel like writing. And then I sit and stare at the blank canvas that longs to be filled by my thoughts but I just...can’t. I can’t. And it makes me angry. I want to write something, I need to write something, but trying to pin down the words that are constantly circling around my head makes me realize that I don’t have a f*vking clue.

I don’t know

Anything

I’m lost in my own mind and the longer I stare at the letters in front of me the harder it gets to come back up and breathe fresh air.

I don’t know

Anything

At all

And I can’t help but hate the words that make it onto the pages because they are not what I want them to be and they make me believe things that aren’t there and

Damn

I really don’t know

Anything

At all

Or at least that’s what this post makes me believe.

my two current favorite OCs Sally and Mary

Sally's the blonde woman with the short hair

Mary's the one with long hair and a sword