#a girl by the sea

[y-ca11]

umibe no onnanoko - inio asano

[mimasroomsblog]

my summer

[rahafmah]

🚨URGENT DISTRESS CALL

I am a mother of 5 children from Gaza. I lost my husband, my home, and everything I own in the war. I am writing to you with full pain and hope that you will heed my call and save my family.📍🍉🍉💔😭😭

This is my family of 6 people and we now live in a tent💔💔🍉

This is our house that was destroyed by the occupation😭😭😭💔💔🍉

This is our source of livelihood, but the occupation burned and destroyed it and we became without income😭😭💔🍉📍

This tent we live in is not fit for human habitation.🍉🍉📍💔💔😭

“Help me survive and go home 🏠💔”

My campaign is protected on gofundme for a year 🍉🍉📍📍🚨

The situation is very difficult, and with my family who needs support to survive in these harsh conditions. Every donation, no matter how small, may be the difference that helps us provide food and shelter💔💔😭😭🍉📍

@fly-sky-high-09 @awetistic-things @imjustheretotrytohelp @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @wellsbering @blomstermjuk @innovatorbunny @operationladybug @acehimbo @butch-king-frankenstein @butchjeremyfragrance @ohjinyoungblr @rememberthelaughter2016 @parfaithaven @huznilal-blog @saintverse @bagofbonesmp3 @anneemay-blog @ankle-beez @thatsonehellofabird @sunidentifiables @neechees

@maester-cressen @lampsbian @sundung @shinydreamtacoprune-blog @rob-os-17 @brokenbackmountain @unwinni3 @whateveroursoulsaremadeoff @cultreslut @halfbloodfanboy @pontaoski @fei-huli @elbiotipo @selkiebrides @bloodandgutsyippee @wherethatoldtraingoes2 @ibtisams-blog @ap-kinda-lit @frigidwife @vetted-gaza-funds @gazagfmboost @nabulsi27

[midorishinji]

Old childhood

I like the feeling of getting sick, the milky tiredness that little by little takes over my body. From the heavy eyelids, sandy as if I had spent a whole day at the beach, and the sensation of fluidity and lightness of my hot and feverish body, wavering like the waves of the sea itself. I like this liminal space, which separates different realities like an extremely thin and delicate veil, which allows me to see from the other side how life could (or should?) be.

Original work ｜Part V of the "A girl by the sea"｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

a.n: I wrote this during the Plague and I remember it now that I'm down with a cold.

I like the feeling of getting sick, the milky tiredness that little by little takes over my body. From the heavy eyelids, sandy as if I had spent a whole day at the beach, and the sensation of fluidity and lightness of my hot and feverish body, wavering like the waves of the sea itself. I like this liminal space, which separates different realities like an extremely thin and delicate veil, which allows me to see from the other side how life could (or should?) be.

It's the same surreal feeling of a hot summer day, which exists (only) in my memory — in fact, I'm not sure if that memory ever existed, or if I just dreamed it, my subconscious absorbing with absolute thirst an ideal reality. I remember being on the beach, smiling, a memory that seems as distant as the smell of the sea. I think that in another life I was a sea creature, if I believed in reincarnation; there is no explanation for this passion other than a connection that goes beyond this life. I was once told that water calms you down because it is a reflex acquired by amphibians, who, in order to cool their bodies that possess such an irregular temperature, dived into bodies of water for indefinite periods. Maybe it's not that much of a different idea, is it? They are different pathways, but they reach the same result... It leads me to think that maybe magic is just a science that we still don't understand; and I, always eager for the future, want to understand everything at once, here and now.

I like the feeling of getting sick because it's a liminal space: time slips through my fingers and crumbles like grains of sand, infinite and so difficult to grasp; I can't tell how much time has passed, a whole night or just two hours, an eternal Russian roulette: will I wake up before my alarm goes off? Will I sleep until it's too late? I forgot that now I don't have an alarm clock, because I no longer have a routine. Things are strange because of this, each day merges into the next without much distinction... I miss summertime, and gaining that extra hour the day it ends; time is infinite and infinite plus one is still infinite, but still... It's a special hour, which makes me want it to be worth it because it's different and rare. If I had the same enthusiasm for anything else, I would be a millionaire.

That's it, my problem is not having enthusiasm. I've swum too much against the riptide, and it's tiring; sometimes it's nice to just let yourself be carried away by the gentle sway of the ocean waves, and see where life takes us... Again with the oceanic metaphors, I know. I think if I lived in a coastal city, I wouldn't do anything else with my days other than swim and watch the sea, sitting on the shoreline; I dream about this sometimes, before sleep completely takes over me. I dream of a life that is not mine and that will never be, not because living on the coast is impossible, but because there are so many more things to fix and conquer within this very particular fantasy. I wanna rewrite parts of my life, but I know I can't. I can only rewrite the future, but to do that I need to look forward, not back, and that is as difficult as resisting the ancestral urge to lie down in the water, just thinking.

[sunseabeachpoolbabes]

Water babes to perfection 😍😍😍

[ionomycin]

Mother of Pearl

[theveryworstthing]

sea nymphs I designed for mermay when i was starting to recover from covid. "sea nymph" isn't exactly the word for what they are but "mermaid" doesn't fit either. idk dudes, bathomet knows what race/species they belong to.

[dreamysummer03]

[foolsocracy]

every teenage friend group needs their horse girl

[etherealarte]

chandler bailey

[adequately]

ぬいぐるみのne ne ne

[120daysofsodomm]

waves 🌊

[svndvn]

wandering underwater, hoping to find some magical items.. 

[midorishinji]

Peter’s denial and repentance

I hate so intensely, and so many things, that it seems like this hate consumed me and burned everything I had inside, everything that took me so many years to build. There's nothing left here. And this time, I don't have a set deadline to see this cycle end, like five or six years of college. This is simply the rest of my life. “Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

Original work ｜Part IV of the "A girl by the sea"｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

a.n: I wrote this awhile ago, while going Through It, and tthis is the story that actually encouraged me to publish "Agnosthesia" as an ebook. I have a soft spot for it, evidently.

I hate having graduated from college. I hate having to work, in the same way that I hated not having a job (and, consequently, not having money). I hate the office environment. I hate dealing with people all the time. I hate so intensely, and so many things, that it seems like this hate consumed me and burned everything I had inside, everything that took me so many years to build. There's nothing left here.

Suddenly, it's like 2017 all over again. The walls are closing in around me: I'm alone, my friends are far from here, far from my routine. Everyone’s finding themselves, fitting into the life they chose, except for me — I'm still lost, my head in the clouds, dreaming of things that don't exist. Back then, I only listened to Smashing Pumpkins' “1979” for six months straight, and now I listen to “Galapogos” incessantly, because nothing resonates more than “and rescue me from me, and all that I believe ” or “ and tell me I am still the man I'm supposed to be ”. Nothing is more familiar than a time loop. But this time, I don't have a set deadline to see this cycle end, like five or six years of college. This is simply the rest of my life.

Thinking about it makes me want to cry, and lately, all I think about is crying all day — between one patient and another, while I'm running on the treadmill to optimize my time, while I'm taking a shower so I don't make too much noise because I don't wanna bother my parents, and because I know there's no point in bothering them, anyway. Three different doctors recommended taking me to a neuropsychiatrist when I was a kid, suspecting autism: one because I refused to speak (even though I was physically and mentally capable of doing so) and had learned to read and write on my own, much earlier than expected; another because the school wanted to skip me from the first grade straight to the fifth grade of elementary school because I was too advanced for the class and all the lessons bored me; and the third because young girls do not normally have such an obsessive interest in poisons, toxins and radioactivity at the age of eight. Three times my parents denied it, like Saint Peter denied Jesus. I'm afraid of going to a psychologist or psychiatrist and finding out that something really is wrong with me. I'm afraid I'll discover that my life could have been easier if I had an ICD-10 code stamped on my forehead. I'm afraid to know what would change if I had a name for what I feel. Most of all, I'm afraid that there will be no answer and I will be forced to spend the rest of my days with this nameless anguish inside me.

I'm afraid of a lot of things. Today, when a patient missed an appointment, I used my free half hour to search online for psychologists who work under my health insurance, and I didn't have the courage to call any of them. I used to think I was brave, but the putrid odor of cowardice emanates from me: I'm just this quiet little thing, who swallows everything silently, fearful, scared, coward . I'm afraid nothing will change. I'm afraid everything will change. I'm afraid I'm no longer the person I should (could?) be. I think, most of all, I hate being myself. If God were fair, or good, he would give me an immediate way out of this career situation out of pity, a deus ex machina like winning the lottery: I always pick the same numbers, those numbers.

I get home and go watch Gilmore Girls, a recommendation from a friend from college who I haven't spoken to since we graduated because she works full-time, and so do I. For a few hours, I forget that I am me, and get lost in Stars Hollow. I sympathize with Jess and his postmodern Holden Caulfield way of hiding his sensitive writer soul. Unlike me, he has courage. Every now and then, I think about publishing “Agnosthesia” as an original story — it's ready, edited, stored in the virtual Google Drive vault — and I always falter. I’d have to make a cover art, and put it on Kindle or another ebook format, and... I’d have to publish it, and I'm afraid. I'm terrified of the reception being negative, because this story is a part of me in a way that I can't explain, and my heart is that of a bird, if someone blows too close to it, it could fall apart like grains of sand between my fingers. I admire Jess because he has courage, and he's going to publish his book — I haven't gotten to that episode yet, I confess, but the spoiler amuses me. Maybe one day my turn will come too. Perhaps. I wish I could tell Rory to drop out of Yale and run away with Jess, that's what I would have done: but I, as always, am a coward. I would always choose to run away.

[orpheusismefr]

[strawlessandbraless]

Going into 2024 like… 🦀 🖤 😞