WE SHALL BE FRIENDZZZZZ

B-but it's,,, summertime....

*I look at he rain outside my window in confusion*

I never did understand how weather systems worked....

It's fucking snowing.

I don't think my paternal relatives care about us as much.

Context: my grand-uncle (paternal grandmother's brother) died about a month or so ago. We did not get invited to the funeral. No letter or even from my grandma, dad, uncle, aunt NOTHING.

(when me and my siblings were younger, we were quite close with him. As we got older, he wanted to be left alone more and more. We talked sparsely and it was only for minutes at the time at best)

I haven't been in close contact with any of my dad's family since February. Only my dad has come by like twice.

I haven't heard from my older aunt's who I haven't seen since elementary school nor my cousins from that period either.

If we talked at least every 1-2 months then it'd be good, but I haven't heard of them reaching out and asking about us in like half a year or more.

I miss them but I don't think they miss me...

Or do they??

then he'd run up a tree and pretend to be a squirrel so that Masky the dog that's chasing playing with him doesn't tackle him

hoodie seems like the kind of mf to hide in a bush and start barking at bystanders

Choice - Jack Stauber

Part 4 (end)

Nice to meet ya?

Who could you be?

I am injury

No, you aren't

You make the choice to be

But I am!

(No)

I AM

(NO)

Dopamine

^^^^^

Hello, I hope you and your family are well. Can you please help me recycle the post on my account? 🌺 And help rescue my family from the war in Gaza? 🙏 Thank you.

https://gofund.me/198b6d57

^^^^^^

"Bleed the Sky"

The sky bursts open,

not gently,

not softly,

but like a body breaking,

like something holding on for too long

finally letting go.

The first drop hits—

hot asphalt hisses,

dust rises like ghosts startled awake,

and the earth opens her mouth

like she’s starving.

There’s no beauty here.

No poetry.

Just the raw writhing of water finding cracks,

finding hunger,

finding every place that aches or crumbles or waits.

The rain doesn’t ask permission.

It doesn’t care where it falls—

forest, rooftop, desert, skin.

It pounds against leaves as if to punish them

for turning their faces away,

fills the throats of rivers

until they choke on their own rushing,

slides down windowpanes like tears

too heavy to hold back.

And it keeps going.

There is no tenderness in this.

This is not about grace.

This is about gravity and surrender,

the weight of billions of tiny impacts

stripping the world bare.

And something in you loosens—

against your will,

unraveling in the rhythm,

in the relentless pounding that reminds you of your own breaking,

of the times you couldn’t stop falling.

You stand there,

letting it hit you,

letting it drench everything you thought was safe.

Maybe this is what healing feels like:

not silent, not soft,

not clean.

But messy.

Wet hands in the dirt,

skin soaked,

blurry vision as everything spills.

The rain knows.

It always knows.

It comes to destroy,

and in the destruction

it leaves something you didn’t know you were—

raw, gasping,

and growing.

Y'all not my SO getting concerned when I told em I was gonna sacrifice em to the moon goddess so we can be more connected lmaoooo

Adds another reblog cuz I'm chronically online n shit 😎👌🏾🦐💕

ALSO HUH???

Sukuna always reminded me of a mad ass pokémon but i couldn't grasp until today....

not to worry mutuals, I’ve recruited a halfling to detect any and all spike traps on your dashboard, just make sure not to scroll too fast so he has time to find them