Screaming crying throwing up it just occurred to me that I’m gonna be up north THIS WEEK like. Wednesday. AHHHH YIPPPEEEEE!!!!!!

Look at this big nasty bug I saw outside on a wall today

Can’t even imagine someone liking me to the point of a real actual relationship like what. Someone could like me enough to want to be with me and like kiss me if I ask for a kiss like that’s crazy no one wants that from me

Getting drunk before noon on a Sunday is just like putting shorts on to go to the bathroom in the hall (brother is home) and then immediately coming back after and dropping ur shorts back next to ur bed and crawling back in it all comfy

good morning puppy❣️

I want to have my tits out all the time I want to be wearing just a hoodie and shorts outside and get a little warm and just whip off the hoodie and let the tits free like I don’t care but I am afraid of anyone else seeing or caring or commenting

Coughing so hard you throw up in front of your friends is like a right of passage

Pinterest : invite friends to this board?

Me : no and fuck you for asking.

Me seeing funk roll over on the bottom of his cage like do a little flip thing and I went to google it just to see like is this a hormonal thing is he getting nasty with the floor of his cage or whatever and every link was like YOUR BIRD IS DYING AT THIS RATE IT IS ALREADY DEAD or it’s like TeeHee UwU that’s just my silly guy and I don’t read into any of my birds behaviors ever :3

Training my brain to look at whatever I’ve just typed and automatically look to see if I should delete the last two lines has been such a good thing for me honestly.

I love you normal post with long gibberish ramble in the tags

I miss having money I do not miss working do you see the problem here

Me vs looking up my childhood comfort item and seeing it for sale and with shipping it’s less than thirty dollars

Trying to find a poem in my own creating tag is like read three words NOPE SCROLL AS FAST AS POSSIBLE TO NOT ACCIDENTALLY TRIGGER YOURSELF read three words NOPE SCROLL QUICK QUICK QUICK GO GO SCROLL okay maybe it’s th- NOPE SCROLL GET OUT OF HERE GO GO GO then finally :3 YIPPPEEEE I FOUND IT

I have this feeling in my chest. A muscle straining in between my ribs. I know logically it's coming from my shoulders. I know. I know. You told me to sit up straight. I know. I don't listen. So I get this pain. It's one of those pains where I can't change anything to fix it while it's happening. All I can do I press my fingertips to the muscle and push. Some pain can be used to alleviate others. That's something I've found. Mom used to cry every time she talked about her father getting older. I remember every thanksgiving, driving home from dinner at her parents house, listening to Christmas music on the radio with my mom crying in the passenger seat. She says it doesn't scare her anymore. Nothing scares her anymore. She sounds like me in school. I still remember telling my art teacher that I wanted to cut myself so she couldn't let me have a pencil sharpener. Didn't scare me to tell her. Didn't scare me later when I loudly told her to go fuck herself when she put one on my desk. Didn't even scare me walking my backpack to the office or getting suspended for a day. It made me feel sickly proud of myself. None of the kids in that class looked at me the same after. Or the teachers. I dropped out a year later. Some pain can alleviate others. I remember you telling me when I got home that we could hang out the day I was suspended. I think I turned you down to sit alone in my room. I wish I had gone with you. Some pain is still pain. Like driving my older brother from his school to your funeral. That pain is still pain. Watching your son cry in front of the friends he outgrew years ago just because they knew you. You were always a better dad to other peoples kids. We always said that. Maybe it has something to do with the personalities we inherit from our parents. Like how I cry every time someone talks about their father getting older. The concept of grandparents puts me in bed for a day. Don't even get me started on weddings. Or funerals. Or my own graduation. None of it's the same. Some joy is still pain. I don't think I'll forget that.

Where is my grief poem about rib pain

In a different world I am living somewhere with a cool breeze and a window open letting in outside air and I’d be listening to animals outside and the rustling of the trees