ewwis-after-hours

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source

source

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{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}

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before the poll, a quick definition of terms:

"mutual" - you found this post from a mutual (on their blog or your dash) "following" - you found this post from someone you're following, but who isn't following you "random" - you found this by scrolling through someone's blog, who you don't follow. this includes people following you "For You" - you found this on the For You page "recommended" - you found this in a "Check out these blogs" popup, or a "recommended" post when looking at a different post "other" - you found this post some other way. comment how? "reblog ✅" - you're going to reblog, queue, or schedule this post "reblog ❌" - you're NOT going to reblog, queue, or schedule this post

with that out of the way:

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god I fucking love strawberries

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whenever i'm discussing baby names with a weird woman i always make sure to try and sow the seeds of tragedy. 'isn't eridan a cute name for a boy? it's greek.' this is the pseudointellectual's noblesse oblige.

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I think a big reason why "children are an oppressed group" gets (wrongly!) read as a "pedophile talking point" is that everyone treats children so terribly that actual child molesters can speedrun winning a kid's trust by like, actually respecting their needs and perspective, at least at first. Which means that the only way out of this mess is for all of us adults to treat children with respect, so that abusers can't use the rareness of that respect as a weapon.

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the loneliness of being queer

to quote trixie mattel: gay people are so broken

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Honestly Gianmarco Soresi can like, get it.

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I have been a sheep caretaker for like two days and already I'm like. Wow. I get it.

I get why these were some of the earliest mammals to ever be domesticated. They look up to humans with this sort of dumb but all at once innocent and pure and trusting expression. They're happy to see you. They follow you around. They like to be rubbed under their chins. Maybe its just some latent Scottish highland shepherd DNA I still have in me but I look at my sheep charges and suddenly I see why the love of God for humanity is so often described as a shepherd and his sheep. I'd fight a wolf for these guys. I'd go way the Hell out of my way for them. I'd carry their young for miles on my own back.

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it washes over me like amniotic fluid. I don't even know what the feeling is called. I don't have a name to call it by, so I must always be vigilant for it. I must watch for it so it doesn't sneak up on me, pounce on me and bite at my neck with blunt teeth and lay its head down while I die.

It's slow, it always is, but when death reaches me every single moment of my life flashes through my mind in a panic as I try to remember how to survive. How to live. And the funny thing is, I'm dying in each and every frame. I've done this before. In every waking second, I watch myself dying, and I never remember how to live.