many years ago me and best friend were traipsing around the local history museum . the museum had a long overlooked mummy room on the third floor

the sarcophagus on display was open, the elaborate lid hanging a foot above the casket to barely reveal the mummy inside, like;

and bestfriend said, Sometimes they wrote messages under the lid for the Dead to read ,

and she laid down on the dirty museum carpet next to the glass case , patting the ground next to her for me to follow suit . sure enough, the underside of the casket lid was covered in inked characters , a brochure of directions to the afterlife in case they woke up all organless and confused

someone else wandered in to the little mummy room and asked if we were ok. she said, Come check this out. so he laid down on the other side.

i crossed my arms over my chest , and so did they . four bodies , seeing a message intended for one; we love you, we miss you, we hope you find your way

some of my favourite skeletal arts

for ages i thought i didnt like drag because of internalized homophobia but it turned out i just don't like bright lights and loud music and really visually complicated things

spd is homophobic i guess is what im saying

It’s crazy how low self-worth fucks with peoples lives

“If you promise to stay alive just a little bit longer I promise that we are going to make this world a place worth living in by any means necessary. I ain’t giving up. I swear.” 

Spotted in Clackamas, Oregon

Is this a threat?

Have you ever considered how fucking astonishing babies crying is?

The young of other animals don’t make noise, or if they do, barely any at all. Baby birds only start chirping when their parents come back with the food, kittens meow to their mothers because cat communication is extremely subtle and drawing your caretaker’s attention may require a sound when you have eight siblings. At this point, they can already see and walk.

 But human babies? Crying is essentially the first willful action that they learn. Months before being able to move on your own, or even hold your own fucking head up, or being able to choose when and where you defecate. Before anything else, a skill more valuable than anything else, is a distress call.

 A distress call specifically intended to be impossible to ignore.

 Before object permanence or theory of mind, without even an understanding of what help they need, who could provide it, and whether they choose to do so, a human being is capable of expressing that there is something wrong in the state they are in, that they are powerless to correct on their own.

 This is what was evolutionarily selected above silent babies that did not attract predators. This is what was selected instead of young who could instantly walk. This is what was selected as the ideal offspring for the human race. Not one that runs. Not one that hides. Not one that can fend for itself. A creature that can communicate, if only the simplest, most inherent message: I need help.

training by Diannely Antigua

i am wondering through a maze but the walls are covered in transcripts. I know its my hand writting but i dont remember being in this room. i find walls built haphazardly and feel imeanse dread.

Ferb’s birthday is on February 29th (leap year day).

i feel so hopeless so easily. it takes nothing to make me unstable. i just keep isolating myself i havent healed. that 'old' me is just what happens when it becomes to much. When i cant escape. When i am old i will never be able to escape. Im so scared.

They say im better That im not 'Like' them. I used to waste my breath and insist. I didnt want to disappoint them. Begged them to realize the effort it took to be socially acceptable. They never believed me. When i broke they couldn't look me in the eye stated delirious 'facts' to separate me, one of the good ones, from *them*.

The worst part is feel miserable. I feel i tricked all these people into seeing me as human, one of them, and i feel bad! Really bad! When will the notice how loose my woolen coat is. Will they see it gray and bloody? Willl stand a chance to argue a case? Will people i saw as family, as reasons to live, pretend i never breathed thier air?

someone on tumblr said that Minecraft music is like when you know you cant go home. and just. tribute to Minecraft anyone? or am i thinking of the fucking gametheroy idk. you might. you get it? being so totally alone? ive always wrote trauma dumping notes. the question us to who? at some points it was michelle or close friends, reporters from the future interviewing me for unknown means. but most of all i think i was writting to me. my future self. because she had to care about me. my well being was hers. and i was the one person who could know what she went through. know her. she is known. i know her and i oove her and im so happy she lived. not just because i can stand here but. its so happy yo think she lived. through all of that she still lived. i love her. so much. i want her to know that. that she will get the love she deserves. i like to think she can hear me in some sixth dimensional sense. i love you! you know that? you are loved. so severely loved by people. stay with me. stay. please. know you are loved. i know cause i care. i think of you every day. sometimes i picture in my head i am dragging your corspe with me. and pointing at things trying to get you excited about them. wishing you could see them. then i remember. im you. i see it. and you see it. and i love you. i love you so much. never forget. even if they dont mean it later they meant it then. at one point someone looked at you and said you are love. you make the universe turn. dont let anyone forget that. you are love. you are worth it. i love you. please stay with me. please. they say im dragging you past your rotting point. ghat you should be sleeping. but you did enough of that alive. ots time for you to live. look out at the sky and breathe. for the first time breathe.

like helping people. i always try to water it down into something more modern concept of human but its not. im home sick today. i didnt want to leave school cause couldn't put into words what was wrong. or put it correctly. but i knew i was sick. anxietv auestions it. savs im lvina but im sick. i canwas sick. anxiety questions it. says im lying but im sick. i can tell. thats what its like for me to love. i just do. but in the same way i said i was tired and nauseous and having trouble thinking coherently i say i love them so i can love you. people are people. i see your eyes in all of them. and if you are out there you need to be loved. i know it. and i will love you till i die. or till im forgotten. but i know how it feels to be unloved. i will never let you go through that alone again. i will be yours. i will love you till i die. i dont care if it hurts if i cant explain it but to anyone else that questions my love just know that i do. i love you because i can. because youre alive and breathing and even tho that will end i will celebrate i ever got to breathe the same air as you. i want to put it in a bottle and give it a shrine. i love you. i do. i really do. all i ask is you let me feel.it.back. my love is not a loan i dont require it but christ i would like to know im not alone. it reminds me of sisters to sayi need to be shown love to show my own but i do. i love you but dont let me burn out if you can afford to. this goes out the window if you are suffering. love doesnt matter then. i just want to know more people than me care.

i feel like those orphaned kittens that are bedded on fake fur so they feel loved. get me one of those stuffed animals that have a heart beat and a heating pad. let me feel close to someone

Speechless.