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Me: *looking at a porcelain hand in the home decor aisle of a store* if I lost my hands in some kind of tragic accident, I’d decorate my entire home with hand-shaped things. Then I’d invite guests over for like, dinner parties and such and sit there expectantly just basking in their discomfort.
My boyfriend: Do you hear what you say when you talk? Do you know what you just said to me?
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TO A NEW CHAPTER
Unknown; Hellen Keller; Art on Megan McGill Pinterest; "The Messiness of Emotional Healing" (2024), by Amy Bartlett; Art by @sunsbleeding; Unknown; Tori Amos; Unknown (probably base on this edit by @khristian-ity-blog).
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i seriously cannot comprehend the sex drive that makes one exclusively horny for captain america looking movie hunks or the victorias secret angel archetype of tall underweight women with generically pretty faces in bikinis. that shit is like carbon monoxide or infrasonic noise to my libido like my sexual senses cant even clock it
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i simply need everyone to understand that i am tired all of the time. literally at all moments. if i ever go somewhere and do something, it is not because i am somehow full of energy, but instead that i have carefully stored up all of my little bits of energy like a dragon collecting jewels, and am now vaporizing them all at once
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god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait
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im going to start compiling all the shitty booktok videos i find except theyre on reels bc i suck
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