My Mother - Blog Posts

The cat I used to have 🥹🥹🥹

I miss you every day tsuki

Starting my first game of dungeons and dragons and I got the PERFECT lineup.

The gay I meet by doing gay people theatre

My childhood friend from second grade

My childhood friends sister (also from second grade)

AND MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL:

My mother

They’re gonna slay level 1 goblins so hard!

"the chipmunks on my dresser are holding a revolution, their tiny arrows get stuck in my feet

there, I wrote a tumblr post

are you gonna let me have tumblr now?"

- ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else,

✨️my mother✨️

Parents Ig

I just had a lowkey fight with my mom.

She is like „you need to see the happy in life otherwise you wont notice it“

And I am like „this world is shit, it’s breaking but I have to live with it and I’d rather take a good moment than faking and lying myself into how beautiful it is, cuz it isnt but I still love it. After all its the only world and life I’ve got.“

She doesn’t understand this, she dont want to.

But I still have the feeling with the both of us, I understand this world better and feel way more comfortable. Cuz I just have accepted it and not trying to idolize it.

And she is such a hypocrite. But yeah anyways..

okay but what if i just eat that whole bar of chocolate

It’s amazing how every time you open your mouth, you prove you’re an idiot.

Vegeta

dragon ball z (episode 119)

GAWDDD she is so gorgeous

I WANNA FUCKING THROW UP THIS SPARKLED MY WHOLE MONTH I AM SOBBING MY BABYYYYY

MY LOVE IS BACK OH LORD---

hiiii 🤍

wow wow i have to say i had no intentions on disappearing especially for this long, i’ve had soo much going on irl and honestly still do, but i’m finally at a point where i want to try to start writing again though i’m still trying to find the inspo :(

i appreciate all the love and well wishes i’ve gotten while i’ve been gone!! i won’t post them all but i have read them so thank u <3

idk if this is me coming back 100% officially but just wanted to check in and say i’m alive lmao feel free to come say hi or send ideas to spark my inspo again 🤍 ily guyss

Scrapbook #8: Anglica (Click for full-size image.)

Other entries in this series: 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

A place for everything, and everything in its place

I hold my grief in my scalp. 

I hold it on my ears, the tip of my tongue. 

It is not always pain, more an itch. 

I scratch

But muscle memory makes me think I itch when I do not.

It is simply the act, the motion of itching, scratching, pinching, scraping.

It is not calming, it is not painful, I do not enjoy or hate it.

Instead I itch.

My sister holds her grief in her hands. 

Her elbows, her teeth.

Hers is pain.

She hates her grief and so she holds it with her fists, 

tight, but moving and flinching with her elbows.

She wants to bite it, make it painful so the hurt becomes more real.

She wants a reason to hurt.

My mother holds her grief in her feet. 

In her words, in her spine.

It is not good to hold grief in the feet and spine, it makes it much harder to walk. 

But

Unlike my sister, she lets it go, very easily. 

Pushing it away. Giving it up.

But it takes ears to be heard, to get rid of the grief. It takes thick skin, it takes silence. 

And so I hold my grief in my heart, to make room for my mother’s.

Someone else made me what I am.

I want them to hate me for it just as much as I hate them for it.

And we will live in this anger and resentment and they will understand the person they have shaped.

They will recognize that they are not god just because they made something out of my sorrow.

It is an ugly kind of love, for the creation to hate the creator.

It is a beautiful kind of hate, for the creator to love the creation.

I have ants all over my room. They always come in more numbers than the day before.

Sometimes I wake up with the ants crawling up my spine.

Sometimes the ants come to take away the bodies of their compatriots.

I respect them for it, I think. I just wish they would find a different battleground.

I am tired of this slaughter, and so i no longer kill the ants. And so they come in larger, greater numbers than before.

I am afraid of them, in a sense.

Not genuinely, more just a semblance of tired annoyance stemming from my mother.

I have mold growing in a teacup by my bed. I have no desire to wash it. No need to.

My mother is frantic now. So desperately tired. She slams her broom onto the ants. Tells me to do the same.

They are just as tired of dying as I am of killing them.

They work and toil to keep the colony alive.

My mother is like an ant in that sense.

And because she is my mother, I am like her, and so I am an ant.

But my mother has a murderous fury. And I have my father's willfull ignorance. I let rot thrive.

Maybe my mother will tire of my ignorance and she will come to kill the ants in my room. Maybe she will rid me of my teacup. Maybe she will kill every last one of the ants. And becasue she is an ant, and because that makes me an ant,

Maybe she will kill me too.