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My favorite Shakespearean soliloquy 

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watching Tumblr drama

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i cant get enough of you, red

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THIS BITCH EMPTY

YEET!

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“ They Wont Know What Hit Them “

’ Maya Angelou once said that ‘there is no greater agony, than bearing an untold story inside you". The woman I once was is dead, buried long ago at a funeral of no attendees, dumped carelessly into a shallow grave. This wasn’t the life I asked for or expected, but the one that I was forced- born- into. This is the start, middle, and end, of my own personal epic. A one way ticket with a front row seat to hell. ’ —- The start of a personal project of mine to finalize and give concretion to the characters I tease and draw constantly but never have been able to truly portray.

Ana M prod. @vernalequeernox

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I noticed that since mom died, dad sleeps more. When he comes home from work or when he's just not doing anything. He just sleeps. But at night, when he's supposed to sleep, he doesn't. I know exactly what that is and I'm worried. And how are you supposed to be able to help people around you when you can't even- feel anything? Nothing. I should be sleeping too. I should feel outwardly more sad over how lonely and neglected and defeated life feels now- and I'm not. I just drone through my days getting further away from my mom. It's been 43 days. It doesn't feel like it's been that long. Only feels like it's been a couple weeks at most. I don't really feel time moving anymore. Everything is reduced to ashes.

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Posted this on Twitter but wanted it in my tagged/me ☺️ Also I tag @hannahbananamontana @oneeyedzombiekitten and @jamkids

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@oneeyedzombiekitten you

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concept

me, in the year 2040, getting ready for a fancy dinner party, standing in front of my antique gold vanity mirror, wearing a saint laurent f/w 2039 evening gown and cartier diamond earrings, taking a sip of champagne: what did you learn at school today, honey? :-)

my future child, laying on my king-sized bed with burgundy satin sheets: not much, in history we talked about the 2016 election. do you remember any of that?

me: drops my crystalline wineglass

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I can't believe my mom just died It's been a week, and- I just don't get it. I feel too calm and collected for how significantly catastrophic of an event it was I carried her casket. I collected her belongings from the funeral home. I stood by her and ran my hand up and down her arm at the wake. I didn't even really cry during it all, which is so fucked, because I was literately at my own mom's funeral, at 19. 19 years of not only a mother, but a friend- a best friend- Reduced to- what? A box of ashes, or, a memorial headstone? I don't even know what my mind is doing anymore. Have I processed it already? Is my mind so easily at rest about everything and it just doesn't care and isn't hurt? Or have I not even started to process it all? What the actual everloving fuck is going on?

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I destroyed three shirts today so I just decided to give up on them for the night

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when you pull your headphones out of your pocket and out comes your keys, money, tampons and russia