after a lot of consideration I've decided I'm finally going to start streaming on tumblr live

!!!!!!! ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

we are on like covid variant #100037 and rsv/flu/pneumonia cases are rising and people will show up unmasked and be like “yeah i’ve been sick for days :/” like. ok. Get the fuck away from me then? why are you out here breathing on everything. the very least you could be doing is masking. NOT hacking into open air every two seconds.

the way being employed keeps you from video games and other various activities is so sick. genuinely demonic

Start a haunted mound scholarship im going to pharmacy school 🕊️

Been eatin like a pig

I’m in Arlington rn and I wish I could live in a place like this with Lorenzo

The place is so perfect and cute and while I’m enjoying the first of the moment I can’t help but wish he was here with me, next to me. And everything reminds me of him— the most generic stuff. Like if I see an Italian bistro in DC I’m missing him. I saw a Wells Fargo and thought of him. Roush served me an olive from the baba ganoush last night at Mama Ayesha’s and it took me back to the bus on our first date, he was going back to my apartment with me. I’m thinking of him as I’m sipping on my mocha. Roush’s apartment is so fucking cool. All that space has so much potential to be a place that could be called home and it’s so freeing and pretty. I felt like that’s the kinda place and life I need right now. I felt like if I lived in a place like that processing this loss would be so much easier and healthier. There’s enough space and warmth and light for me to know what to do with the pain. The bathroom was so convenient to get ready in. But then the wistful thoughts obviously begin to seep in without sparing the moment of hope that I hoped would soon rescue me. I began wishing he could be with me in a place like that. All the love we could share in a room like that, all the passions we can work on, all the conversations we can have, and all the comfort we find in each other enhanced by the comfort of the space. We could decorate it to suit both of our tastes. I could game with him. Or he could paint with me. He could talk about his day. Or read me his prose. And I could tickle him all day. I want to know more about his friends and family and more about his brothers! He could watch me get ready in the bathroom and feel so lucky as he’s realizing what’s his. I look so pretty today, my hair is perfect too.  All the wine we could sip in the kitchen and all the ice cream on the couch. The kitchen— he would definitely teach me how to cook. Oh we’d have so much sex alright. And there’s always something to do! If we want a chill day we could do something here in the Arlington neighborhood itself- or if we’re feeling extra we could hang out in DC! All the art galleries and museums we could go to and the shopping we could do. And the parks where I tell him how special he is to me. I’m still sipping on this mocha trying to make peace with it. And when it’s winter I could watch flurries fall and sit on his pretty lashes. He’s so handsome. I would make him feel so warm in our bed. I’m still sipping on the mocha on this bench I wish he was on too. There’s cute cafes, a deli, and a CVS in front of me. Alllll of the mundane things with him in it- the thought of how magical it would all be is giving me butterflies. I’m gonna leave when I finish my mocha; it’s starting to get cold.

I wrote a bunch of things after a lot of things came crumbling down last month instead of harming. I found out I was too poor to transfer to a uni that meant a lot to me, my boyfriend, the best I'd ever had, left me forever after one rough patch. I didn't know how to unpack it but as someone whose only cope for the last 9yrs was harming, I began writing and found it to be so much more sustainable while providing the same release. It isn't literature or anything- I simply wrote what I was thinking. I will share some.

How do I breathe with the fact that I have to stay when I lost the one thing that would’ve made me stay

I can’t walk anywhere on campus without his image flashing in the back of my mind. Everywhere I walk on campus reminds me of him. I either waited for him, sat with him, kissed him, walked with him or held him and his warm hand wherever I have to be now. So I refuse to leave my bed which also feels very lonely without him in it. My own apartment feels haunted by his absence. He was with me even in the bathroom as he held my hair as I threw up, wiped my mouth, and held me when I couldn’t feel my existence except the ache in my head. I’ve shared this bed with him for as long as I can remember my time in this country. My bed smelled like him until yesterday when it was replaced by some garbage stench of depression      `  mornings (which are typically afternoons). We’ve had some of the best Mediterranean plates and cuddles and conversations on that couch. A lot of homework we did on that couch. All the meals we microwaved, the lowest maintenance pasta we put together, the pancakes we made, and the alcohol we cut are the visions waiting for me in the kitchen. I can’t eat knowing I’m not ordering for him too or meeting him after eating. Why were they the only times I ever ate? I’ve even been on the bus with him several times. He’s so perfect. What do I do with this origami paper that I bought just for us? Buckley was the one hall I kept for myself until the week of impending doom. He walked in my direction literally dressed like perfection. His handsome face with the coyest smile on it, his hair so gorgeous, his fleece jacket hugging his perfect body, and his stride so perfect- I couldn’t help but wonder how this man was mine. So now he’s not. He eats before me like he’s at a contest, and his head is almost parallel to the plane of his meal and the table. He sometimes looks up to breathe or take a sip from his drink. But he’s still perfection when he’s eating. His voice cannot be real. As if his voice wasn’t the best I’d ever heard, I’ve never heard him say an unremarkable thing with that voice. Everything he says is intelligent, charming, funny, kind, or genius. He’s the kindest being I’ve known. His passions are many. He’s got friends and things to do. How does a man like that stay so grounded? He’s beautiful inside and out- that’s insanely rare. Time, happenstance, and my depression conspired so hard to make us meet, and the rest was history. Sadly he ended up opening my eyes to everything I needed to fix by being a grand lesson. But he was a grander fairytale. It was a whole new standard of treatment. I can’t believe I threw all that away with my own hands. I won’t be witnessing the first fall of snow with him. I will be all alone on my birthday yet again. I would kill myself for him if that’s ever a thing- and that can be confusing because I want to kill myself all the time unconditionally. The difference he makes is that I’ll probably not be a slave to my own cowardice as I have been this whole time. For him I would just do the hardest thing. Well, he’s the reason I decided to restart my antidepressant now. I would never ever hurt him, yet I managed to threaten him by surrendering to my demons. I feel like a criminal every 5 seconds. I love him like my child. His embrace made me feel safe too. Is that how a mother feels with her child too? All the music I listen to now is from the greatest collection that had to be made with the finest taste. It’s his. He’s so magnificent. I will keep being delusional and keep hoping that he will walk through my fire exit anytime now. He won’t. He never will. 

I wrote a bunch of things after a lot of things came crumbling down last month instead of harming. I found out I was too poor to transfer to a uni that meant a lot to me, my boyfriend, the best I'd ever had, left me forever after one rough patch. I didn't know how to unpack it but as someone whose only cope for the last 9yrs was harming, I began writing and found it to be so much more sustainable while providing the same release. It isn't literature or anything- I simply wrote what I was thinking. I will share some.

I wrote a bunch of things after a lot of things came crumbling down last month instead of harming. I found out I was too poor to transfer to a uni that meant a lot to me, my boyfriend, the best I'd ever had, left me forever after one rough patch. I didn't know how to unpack it but as someone whose only cope for the last 9yrs was harming, I began writing and found it to be so much more sustainable while providing the same release. It isn't literature or anything- I simply wrote what I was thinking. I will share some.

daily food lovers.. what if you had only weekly food what would you do then

Smoke til it hurts then fuck till it doesnt #caloriedeficit

MC Ren is Lorenzo…… what are

i have

have u ever peed and pood at the same time

have u ever peed and pood at the same time

So I’m going to have to miss him longer than I knew him…

If I like a new food I will literally make it my personality for one month. It will be my profile picture anywhere. If I have to evaluate my interests it’ll be the first thing I think about. If someone starts a conversation with me guess what I’ll be talking about.

Now hop on one foot to all those who’ve hopped before us

Idk what to look for forward to