My-ugly-organs - Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!

you'll carry on, somehow you always do

strangers

My Body is Rotting in the Forest by Guang Yang

Louise Glück, from “Stars”, Poems: 1962–2020

sorry i'm being an absent friend i'm being an absent self too

I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.

It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.

I picked up embroidery in 2020 and have really enjoyed translating paintings into thread. I'm working on a series of messed up eyeballs that I love

I ate chicken kidney for the first time some days ago, even as i tasted it i felt so far away from myself and still so raw the taste of blood lingered

THUNDER BURNING QUICKLY TURNING KNIFE OF WORDS IS DRIVING ME INSANE //

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