#childhood days

[sambartika]

UNLIKELY FASCINATION

PART III: "Forever and Ever"

It was Sunday—the laziest day of the week. Waking up at 9, I strolled past my front balcony, heading straight to the kitchen for breakfast. Then, I opened my computer to work on my project.

The clock struck twelve. As I prepared for a bath, I felt something queer. Did I forget to do something? I wondered while opening the door to the balcony.

"Oops! How could I forget this?" I mumbled.

I placed the bananas on the cupboard behind which the civet stayed.

Yes, it has been quite a few years. It grew older, and I grew up.

I really grew up. Actually, that’s misleading. Nothing much changed about me—I just became mature enough to realize what reality is. I grew from a child eager to make friends, to a teenager traumatized by friendship, to a mature person afraid to make friends.

Have any of you ever experienced living in an environment, studying in a school with your agemates, and realizing that no one��absolutely no one—thinks like you? No one understands your sense of "friendship." No one understands your definition of "loyalty." No one understands your idea of "happiness." At that point, you may feel you are innocent. And yes, I admit I was innocent, and I want to remain unchanged for my entire life.

Sometimes you will be framed. And then you may call yourself a fool, but you are not. You are just not experienced enough to understand who deserves your friendship. Friendship requires trust. Trust demands loyalty, and—

LOYALTY is an EXPENSIVE thing that you cannot expect from CHEAP people.

Hence, now I’m afraid—maybe I won’t be able to distinguish the rich from the cheap. It requires skill to distinguish a diamond from moissanite. It requires even more skill to identify a rich heart from rich apparel.

Hence, now, I am truly petrified—of friendship... with narcissists.

But don’t think I’m devoid of friendship. I do have friends, and I’m genuinely happy with them.

I’m proud to say that I’m an animal lover. I love all animals. To me, they are my best friends. Whenever I see them, I feel an eternal, inseparable bond existing between us—something rare, beyond profit, beyond ulterior motives, beyond any conditions—so natural, so resolute.

As I was placing the civet’s food, it came out, only to stare at me for a few obsessed moments. Earlier, it was introverted—it restrained itself from appearing in front of me, yet secretly watched me. That’s hypocrisy, though. But I loved how it changed. Seeing its change, I asked:

"It has been so many years, and still you haven’t answered me."

It looked at me cluelessly.

"What? Did you ever answer me whether you want to be my friend or not?"

It picked up its food and took a bite.

I smirked and walked away.

At this point, both of us knew the answer to the question. I reminisced about our sweet memories—the time when our eyes first met, that dining table incident which still gives me goosebumps, and how I developed an unlikely fascination for a civet cat, a wild, supposedly nasty species, even though I hated cats.

Oh, there’s something I must tell you all. Civet cats are not cats. Yes, the scientific name of the house cat is Felis catus. Thus, all cats are generally part of the Felis genus, although their species may differ, like Felis chaus (Jungle cat) or Felis bieti (Chinese Mountain cat). But civets are not one of them. Civets belong to the family Viverridae, and they don’t form a monophyletic group.

In West Bengal, we generally find Paradoxurus hermaphroditus (Common Palm Civet) or Viverricula indica (Small Indian Civet). And believe me, I found this out on the last day of my Class 10 board exams—coincidentally, the day I studied biology for the final time for exam—since I pursued Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Computer Science as my main subjects in Class 11.

So my fascination wasn’t that unlikely, as it’s really not a cat. I know it may sound melodramatic and cheesy; it may even resemble a mistaken identity plot. It might seem like an attempt to romanticize the idea—love is all perfect and ideal—even though the shape of Earth isn’t—but for God’s sake, believe me, I didn’t make it up for the story. It’s damn true.

Anyway, aren’t you eager to know the answer to the question from earlier? Well, it was—

“Forever and Ever.”

[ahotknife]

the thing is that childhood doesn't just end when you turn 18 or when you turn 21. it's going to end dozens of times over. your childhood pet will die. actors you loved in movies you watched as a kid will die. your grandparents will die, and then your parents will die. it's going to end dozens and dozens of times and all you can do is let it. all you can do is stand in the middle of the grocery store and stare at freezers full of microwave pizza because you've suddenly been seized by the memory of what it felt like to have a pizza party on the last day of school before summer break. which is another ending in and of itself

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[yooo-lets-go]

Elias Walker father of the year

[sanshinexx]

they should invent a childhood that is not full of tragedy and trauma –kakashi probably idk someone get this man to therapy please

[palatinewolfsblog]

"Fairytales don't tell children that dragons exist.

Children already know that dragons exist.

Fairytales tell children that dragons can be killed."

G.K. Chesterton.

[rissaito]

free at last 🦋

[sambartika]

Part 3 and the last part of Unlikely Fascination is out on Wattpad. Check it out.....

New poem coming out on January 1, 2025

[aparnaj-1981]

JOYFUL TRAIN JOURNEYS

Hi Everyone, Welcome to my website and have fun. ❤❤❤😊😊😊

MEMORIES OF MY CHILDHOOD Photo by Omkar Pandhare on Pexels.com Train journeys can be filled with unforgettable memories. I remember the sheer excitement of claiming the coveted window seat, often sparking a friendly rivalry with my brother. Those were the days when our family summer vacations were a true adventure, and a 15-16 hour train ride was the thrilling start. We’d meticulously pack our…

[foldingfittedsheets]

It sounds funny but I’m actually a second generation sex shop employee. My mom worked in one for a while when I was little. It definitely set a very blasé tone around sex growing up which was great until it was mortifying because I was a teenager.

I don’t have many clear memories from when I was a kid but a few stand out. First is that when I was too sick to go to daycare I’d get to hang out in the back room of the shop my mom worked in. It was basically paradise.

Firstly, because my mom was in charge of inventory and there was always a kings ransom in boxes. So most of my sick days were spent in custom box fortresses filled with blankets and pillows. I got to watch the TV in the safety of my cardboard castle. My mom’s boss would also usually let me play with the stone otters she kept on her desk. I adored those otters and looked forward to sick days where I got to caress their carved stone features.

Second, mom’s work had the best candy. There was a novelty brand they carried that I still think about. Sure, the chocolates were shaped like boobs, but I did not care because they were the most delicious chocolates I’d ever had. I only got a candy if I were very good so I stayed on my best behavior most of the time.

I did get in trouble once for wandering into the back stock while looking for props to play with. I ended up finding a joke pack of condoms that were super tiny and using them as hats for my little toys. Thank goodness they were unlubricated. I was chided for this and the teeny condoms were carefully returned to their package.

But my absolute favorite was when I go to stay until closing. While mom was counting down the til I could wander the display shelves and touch all the sample dildos. I only had a vague sense that these represented anatomy- mostly I just cared about their relative texture merits. I poked and squeezed my way through the displays dongs, approving particularly squishy ones, disdaining the hard plastic offerings.

I rated them from worst to best until my mom secured her cash box and we went home, leaving behind a wonderland of yummy candy, stone otters, and cardboard kingdoms.

[lizardsmp3]

they had a busy day ❤️ (happy 10 years fditl my beloved)

[moonieee]

A fanart of one of my favourite fluff bingyuan fanfic: Green Shadows by Zarasu on ao3 🌼✨️

“What?” Shen Yuan asked, a little breathlessly.

The boy pointed his chubby finger at the book in Shen Yuan’s lap. “What are you doing?”

“Oh.” Shen Yuan looked down at the book. “I’m, hm…” He threw another look at the boy. Maybe the other boy would be interested in playing with him? “I’m an explorer!”

The other boy’s smile faded and he looked at Shen Yuan intensely. “I thought you were a human?”

In which a oneshot fanfic where Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe were childhood friends.

Notes: Holy shit i was so eepy when i post this and when i woke up, i realized from yall that i linked the wrong fics lol 🧍‍♀️ Anyway, i updated it thx u everyone who notify me abt it 💀 lmaooo

[kitamars]

doodles as i relive my spideyman phase from eighth grade

[nagasleeps]

your teeth and your tongue, bright red from tiger's blood

[mokshalifestyleinternational]

PURE BABY POWDER FRAGRANCE OIL

Baby Powder fragrance oil is often used in the production of natural, cold-pressed, and other types of soap. Its straightforward, true-to-name fragrance lends soaps a quick finish and a relaxing aroma. This aroma may be found in a variety of personal care and infant care items. Fragrance oils are used in the production of the majority of scented candles. They are less expensive than essential oils, and the scents are more accessible. Baby Powder fragrance oil is quite popular in the scented candle industry; it is available under the brand names childhood days, newborn feelings, and so on. It may make a candle that lights up the room and transports you back in time. Because of its delicate and innocent scent, Baby Powder Fragrance Oil is used in the production of perfumes for teenagers and children.

[pnfc]

their category defying rship wtih perry