#healing wounds

[jasmines-library]

Necrosis

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIXTEEN :Prompt: necrosis/wound cleaning.

Summary: Tim helps you with your wounds.

Warnings: mentions of injury. Necrosis.

Word count: 666

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Tim frowned as he watched you hobble across the room with a noticeable limp. You had been injured a few weeks ago; a nasty hit to the thigh with a knife. The would had been deep and painful and would more than likely leave a scar. You were supposed to be on crutches, but you had abandoned those after the first week and a half and were now resorting to limping through the manor now you weren’t on bed rest. 

“You shouldn’t be walking on that.” Tim chided as he glanced up at you from his computer screen. He had been staring at it for the last three hours, only leaving to go to the bathroom or to refill his coffee. 

“Yeah but I’m sick of staying in bed.” You said, continuing to limp towards the kitchen.  It was strange. After two or so weeks the wound should have healed up somewhat, but it seemed you were still struggling with it. And normally it wouldn’t have been a problem, but Tim often overthought and wanted to be safer than sorry. With a huff, Tim stood, walking over to you. He placed a gentle hand on your back and guided you to sit down. 

“Sit.” He said. It was practically an order as he gave you no choice but to. 

You let out a hiss as you sat, the pain in your leg twinging. Tim gave you a look. 

“How many times have you been told to stay off this leg.” He tutted. “If you want to get better you need to rest.” 

“I was just going to the kitchen.” You argued back. 

“You could have asked one of us” 

“There’s no point in asking one of you when it’s just easier to get there myself.” 

“Clearly you can’t. You’re still limping…..is it still bothering you that much?” 

“A little…” 

“That means yes then.” Tim rephrased. He knew you had a habit of downplaying your pain. He helps you straighten out your leg gently, taking a look at the bandages. “How long ago did you change these?” 

“Uh….two I think. Alfred did them for me.” He had been doing a good job of making sure your wound was clean and free from infection. 

Tim pursed his lips. “You mind if I take a look? They probably need changing anyway” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Alright.” Tim stood before going to get the medical kit. “Don’t move.” He pointed at you. “I mean it.” 

“Yes, Sir.” You mock saluted. 

Tim returned a minute later, and as much as you would have liked to have left you did stay in your place for him. Gingerly he took your leg between his hands and began to unwrap the bandages. There was no sign of blood, which was a good sign. However when he revealed the wound, he let out a hiss though his teeth.

Some of the skin around the wound had began to turn a nasty grey-ish colour. Necrosis. Likely a sign of infection or lack of blood to the cells which has caused them to die. 

“Well shit….. no wonder it’s been bothering you so much, sweetheart.”

“Necrosis?” You swallowed thickly. 

“Looks like it. It’s infected, kid.” 

“Shit.” 

“Hey. Don’t think like that. We’ll get you on some antibiotics and see how that helps and go from there, yeah? I’ll let B know. You’ll be fine, we’ll sort it, kid.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now let’s get this bandaged for you, hm?” He said, reaching into the medical kit and pulling out a fresh bandage and some sterile wipes. Gently he cleaned the area, his touch gentle so as to not cause you any more harm, before he tossed the wipe away and began to re-wrap the wound. The bandage sat snug but not suffocating around your thigh. “There you go kid. 

 “Thank you.”

“Now get some rest while I go and talk to B.”

“Alright.”

“No walking on that leg.” Tim warned. “I mean it. No wandering off.”

“No promises.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY FIFTEEN ⛧ DAY SEVENTEEN->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[manpleblog]

computer lesbianism

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Watcher and Apprentice, Part 2

(The Watcher and the Thief, Chapter 1 Scene 2)

WoW Birthday Whump Day 15: "I'm Sorry."

Whumpril Day 14 (Urgent Care)(kind of), Day 19 ("I need you")

WoW Birthday Whump Event Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

part 1

TW: stitches mention, wounds mention, blood mention, anger

Context: Hector has gotten Luc back to the blockade. Now he waits outside the medical tent, wondering if his apprentice will survive.

Aaaaand that's a wrap for this whump event! Thank you so much to @whumperofworlds for all the prompts! I will continue to participate in Whumpril, so stay tuned for more of that.

-----

“You’re going to kill the grass if you keep pacing like that.”

Hector paused mid-step and glared at the nearby elf, who sat cross-legged outside the medical tent, polishing his silver daggers. “By the depths, de Silv, he just got attacked by a magician, of all things!”

“True,” the elf replied. His hands were busied with the daggers, but his eyes, sharp as the blades, were fixed on Hector. “And I’m as concerned about that as you are concerned about your apprentice.”

“Then excuse me if I’m a little restless!” Hector snapped. He began pacing again, hands clasped firmly together behind his back. They'd gotten back to the blockade in record time. Luc’s heart was still beating when he’d set the boy on the table inside the medical tent. Unfortunately, the healers, Silas and Ven, immediately kicked Hector out so they could treat him in peace.

Assholes.

Octavian sighed, sliding his daggers into their sheathes. “From what I had glimpsed of your apprentice’s injuries, I am certain that, despite the blood loss, he should make a full recovery.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your professional opinion in mind.”

A series of shrill whistles echoed throughout the camp. One short whistle, one long whistle, pause. Two long whistles, one short whistle. Hector froze, mentally translating the code. A-G. It wasn’t the alert for a sang attack, three short whistles in quick succession. So what did A-G mean?

Octavian rose to his feet, the ghost of a smile on his face. “My presence is requested. I wish your apprentice a swift recovery.” The elf bowed his head to Hector and departed.

Ah. Ag was the alchemical abbreviation for silver. De Silv. It was a clever, if strange, bit of code. Why did de Silv have a signal to himself?

Before Hector could dwell on it further, one of the healers, Ven, emerged from the medical tent. “Watcher, you may enter. We have something we must discuss.”

Hector raised an eyebrow but did what he was told, following Ven inside. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he saw Luc conscious, sitting on the table as Silas finished wrapping bandages around his torso. The healer nodded to Hector as he entered. “Watcher.”

“Silas. You need to talk?”

Both healers glanced at each other for a brief second. Silas gave a slight nod, and Ven turned back to Hector, her expression grim. “His injuries are superficial. We should have been able to close them without stitches. But even with stitches, the skin refuses to heal itself. The blood won’t even clot. We’ve never seen anything like it, even from runes.”

Hector gritted his teeth, eyes on his apprentice. Luc’s face still hadn’t regained its color, but he seemed alert enough. “What are you saying?”

“The wound is cursed,” Silas said softly, “the runes make it so his body can’t heal itself.” He pointed to a bandage wrapped around Luc’s arm. “And it’s not just the runes she carved into his skin that won’t close.”

“Our methods accelerate the body’s natural healing process,” Ven clarified, eyes downcast, “but we can’t do anything if the blood won’t clot. I’m sorry, Watcher.”

Hector stared at them for a long moment as he tried to process their words. His wounds won’t heal? A rune could do that? The full implications hit him like an arrow fired at full draw, and he swore vehemently, slamming his fist into the table.

The healers flinched back at his outburst. “It… it is possible that the rune is only slowing his healing,” Silas ventured, “given time, he might recover.”

“Might? Might?!” Hector barked a harsh laugh, trying to stomp his rising fury before he lashed out further. “You just told me he’s going to slowly bleed out! If infection doesn’t get him first!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Luc, your mother is going to kill me when she finds out about… about how….”

He trailed off. No need to say the last part of that sentence.

“May we speak alone, please?” Luc asked softly. Ven and Silas glanced at each other before quickly leaving the tent. Hector and Luc were left in silence for several moments.

“It’s not your fault,” Luc said. Hector opened his mouth, but Luc held up a hand. “No. You couldn’t have known this would happen. No one could.”

Hector sighed. Unfortunately, he was right. “I just… is there really nothing more they can do for you? Are we just supposed to wait and see if your wounds close on their own?”

“I don’t plan on it. They’re planning on sending me back to Caenum to recover. Apparently they’re sending a messenger to the Draigo, to get someone to track down the magician.”

“Good,” Hector muttered, “she deserves to be brought to justice. Shame I couldn’t do it myself.” As he finished speaking, the first part of Luc’s response registered. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you don’t plan on it’?”

His apprentice inhaled slowly, steeling himself for what he was about to say. That was never a good sign, coming from Luc. He only did that when he was about to suggest something completely—

“I’m going to find a magician to reverse the curse.”

There it was.

Hector took a few deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want you to repeat that, except this time actually pay attention to what comes out of your mouth.”

“It’s not going to be the same magician!” Luc retorted as if that made the idea any better. “One of the wandering magicians from around Zariya or Valdove, one who we know for a fact isn’t a sang-hunting serial killer.”

“Do I have to spell out for you just how bad of an idea this is?” Hector started pacing the length of the tent. His apprentice was already responsible for several gray hairs on his head and seemed intent on giving him more. “No. Absolutely not. We’re going back to Caenum—”

“Where I can slowly bleed out? Or let my wounds get infected?”

Hector paused and glared at Luc, but the boy continued talking. “If we go back to Caenum, I will die. We haven’t seen a magician there in years! But if we seek out someone like… I don’t know… Qila Scoria? She might be able to undo the runes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Hector sighed. “No.”

“So it’s viable?”

Hector fixed his apprentice with a flat stare. “It’s viable… but if your wounds get worse, we’re going back to Caenum. Are we clear?”

Luc grinned. “Clear as glass.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumpril @pigeonwhumps

[ruminate88]

This healing journey isn’t pretty. It’s challenging old beliefs about yourself. Dismissing lies. Facing demons. Feeling uncomfortable feelings and being honest with yourself. Allowing yourself to have outbursts and releasing anger. Crying dramatically and grieving deeply. Accepting hard truths and swallowing pills you never even prescribed yourself to. Willing to be alone with yourself and looking internally, not externally at other people. Having set backs and relapses but being able to get back up and keep going. Finally, choosing to forgive yourself and the past every day. Lastly, accepting you make mistakes and you can’t be perfect. You’ll probably get hurt again in life and you might even hurt someone. Keep going! - Ruminate88 (my journal is personal but I hope I can encourage anyone else who needs it. Please take time out to self reflect.)

[4getherandfindher]

I’m breathing but there’s need for more air

My lungs tighten and my heart does too

Thoughts after thoughts after thoughts.

I don’t care but I can’t help that I do.

Can’t choose between loving and smothering.

If I smother them they leave.

I choose to be true to myself.

I smother them with affection.

That’s taken as a threat.

A threat that there will be too much love.

So I chose to be someone else.

A text message after an hour of being on delivered. My heart still hurts and yearns for the attention. But mind is safe because there’s no way for the heart to hurt again.

I don’t smother them I push them away.

With the thought of wondering if they even truly cared.

It’s the 14 year old boy that tore my heart to pieces

It’s the father that I was blessed with

Called a bitch an age 16 to the years I turned 19. Called a whore for wanting love at age 20.

The man I saw when I was 2 I knew he was scary. I had to be brave. At the age 3 for the warmth of something to eat or something to sleep on. A restroom was a privilege at age 5. Everything blurry but my siblings were always in a hurry to empty the bucket that we used to you know…

And I can’t blame my parents for the way that I am. I’m smart I’m loving and caring but I don’t care about others. How was I supposed to care for others when no one cared about me.

I was 9 and I saw my parents fighting.

It became electric so my brother covered my eyes. It was years of being shoved in a room while my ears were ringing. Dishes breaking , screaming, my mother crying.

Then I turned 18, mothers know best right.

You trust the person that gave you life because that’s what the heart says to do.

But when you have a mother choose between two children she’s bared. The boy always wins.

Heart pounding. Hands shaking , screaming. Dishes breaking.

Sounds not too new.

Now I’m the one that fights. with my brother that once protected me from the electric air.

It was the day I turned 18 and I lost all respect for the one that has brought me into this world. I’m 18 my brother is 27.

I just turned legal.

Betrayed is an understatement.

I was a teenager and my mother chose my brothers side.

It was 8:54pm and my brother threw my mother against the wall.

Cocaine. Was the fault of it all.

“You never disrespect the person that brought you into this world “

Is the words my mother has taught us.

Just like my dad my brother fought his own demons.

He punched me on the day I turned 18

You see I don’t want to show I care for them for him for anyone because no man’s has ever cared for me.

From birth , my father chose alcohol over me.

Now I’m 23

And I can’t seem to agree with anyone who chooses to love me.

In the back of my mind I still think it’s my fault.

Wash me in the water

You can love me like a daughter.

And I’ll never be like him.

[sn-ryter]

The cracks spread softly, like a quiet reminder that even broken things can hold light. ✨ Fragility is not weakness—it’s a testament to the beauty found in resilience. 🌿💔

[sweetfreedom2107]

I can barely see the tattoo we got together. I can barely remember your name. Whether that is a blessing or the greatest tragedy of my life, I don't know, I'm just trying to not let the itch of the healing wound drive me insane.

[shiningmystic]

Had a final session with my therapist. In conclusion:

I have real low self esteem/confidence and if I work on that then all the other issues in my life will naturally resolve themselves.

So basically I’m so harsh with myself that I shut down before I do anything beneficial. If I can find it in me just keep working on it then I’ll be happier. If I have confidence in myself naturally anxiety dissipates.

She also mentioned that finding something you’re good at usually helps heal confidence because you have a thing to be proud of yourself for.

The only way to heal what I have and many others is EMDR Therapy and everyday check ins with my internal family system which is another form of therapy that I worked on with her.

Therapy has really helped me. When you are ready to be happier then therapy will be for you but at the same time it’s not a pill you can just take every week and everything is better. You have to really be tired of the shit in your life, tired of the people or yourself and feeling sad.

Even on the journey I’ve found some peaceful times where I was proud of how far I’ve come. It’s not all as bad as you think. And even when it gets bad take a break, there is not shame in breaks and just stopping for now.

I will get there guys, I have full confidence you will too, never give up on a truly happy life, you will find your own.

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 15 - Who Did This To You?

From The Queen of Lies:

He turned away from her, coughing quietly, and Breanna winced. His back was, as she expected, a mess of days-old cuts, dark scabs, yellowing bruises where the whip had struck but not sliced, and streaks of old blood where it had oozed from the healing wounds.

“They’re…” She swallowed the sick, sour taste in her mouth. “They’re healing, I think. I don’t see any fresh blood.” When he turned silently around, he didn’t move back from the bars, nor did he look away, and Breanna’s face burned again. “Stop staring like that.” She shifted the collar of her dress, embarrassed by how much she was sweating, and pushed a swath of damp, escaped locks away from her face.

“Stop staring like wh…”

His words trailed off.

And then he flung his arm through the bars and caught her wrist. “What is that?”

Breanna couldn’t breathe, because she’d been wrong, she’d been so wrong, he could reach through the bars, he could grab her, and he had, and what was he going to—

Some measure of lucidity broke through the storm of thoughts, and Breanna realized he was merely holding her wrist, not squeezing or pulling or twisting—his fingers grasping with no more force than a sheer curtain fluttering in a breeze. He lifted her arm so the torchlight illuminated a fresh bruise, the one that had been hidden until, without realizing, she’d pushed back her sleeves like a fool. “It’s nothing.”

His gaze left her arm and scanned her face, slowly trailing down until it landed on her throat, and she knew her hair and dress no longer hid what else was on her skin. “Who did that to you?”

[zygmetic]

Coping with the big feelings// TW: SH

The first time I hurt myself I was 11. The immense pressure of anxiety and overwhelming feelings that I harboured made me feel as if i was about to explode. It was, at this age, when a friend told me of a way to cope with these 'big' feelings; that thing was self h4rm. I thought at first "why would anyone want to do that?" but, as time passed, i realised that my friend may be onto something. A way to cope with the constant feeling i might explode? A-MAZING! I was resourceful, using what i had to release this pressure. A quick google search later and i was staring at my wrists holding a tiny blade. Quick and painless, i thought, to ease my mental pain. The first cvt was one of the biggest mistakes i ever made. Thus started my spiral.

Of course, it didn't take long for someone to find out about my little experiment. My sister saw my arms, she's older then me and was around 13 when she saw it. She knew what it was, and she told my mum. I remember it so clearly. The way my mum grabbed my arm and glared at me as if she was trying to remove the cvts by her eyes alone. The word selfish came up in that conversation a lot, and i sat there in silence not knowing how to tell my mum about the big feelings. 'Just tell her!!!' was what that voice inside my head told me. I never got the chance to, though. After a thorough scolding from my mum, I was ushered to my room to, supposedly, 'hide' the embarrassment that was me. My sisters were told to be nice to me, but it only lasted the night (i mean, sisterly love and all that).

That truly was the one and only time my mum saw my cvts. Getting older, i learnt to be sneaky. I also learnt that my cvts and scars (although not very prominent or deep) were disgusting. Doing it on other parts of my body became second nature to me. Someone wouldn't leave me alone? All i needed was 5 minutes in the toilet alone and i'd be happy as can be. Insurmountable pressure from my family over 'making something of myself'? I'd fix myself up to become amazing. These habits of 'treating' my frustrations and other big emotions extended beyond just cutting. At age 15, i found that scratching or picking skin was also effective in aiding in my release. Mum saw that one- "just nerves from my exams!" is what i said, hiding my bloody and cut knuckles beneath a huge plaster.

That's another thing, when dealing with these emotions you learn how to properly care for your wounds. When i brought bandages, gauze, and anti-bacterial cream from Amazon i merely said it was for first aid purposes. Cleaning and bandaging could be done on auto pilot by me.

Coping with these emotions in this way has followed me now into my later teen years. I'm 18 in October. I try to remain positive, and on the outside (even to my boyfriend) i'm as happy as can be. Every few months i need to cope with this build in emotions. It's gotten less frequent, but sometimes its just an itch i need to scratch.

I don't really have a purpose for writing all of this, therapy is expensive i guess. No one will read this, but i might feel slightly better if someone out there can understand my way of dealing with 'big emotions'.

[jasmines-library]

I think I visit your blog an unhealthy number of times bc it's just my go-to for some good old fashioned hurt/comfort and it's just. You are such an incredible writer 😭❤️!! could I request a batfam fic where the reader undergoes a depressive (or numb) episode/the vibe that comes with a character just falling down wordlessly on the couch and the other character saying "bad day?" and the character nodding and giving them a blanket // if this is too specific absolutely no worries, either :D! any and all characters are alright, thank you so much!! please take your time with the requests and I hope you have an awesome rest of ur day :]!!

Aww anon! That’s so cute! I hope you enjoy and I hope you’re doing okay! :)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY TWENTY :Prompt: necrosis/wound cleaning.

Warnings: numbness and a depressive episode described.

Word count: 1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You had fallen into that pattern again. That dreadful, hateful pattern. It comes and goes in waves; Numbness followed by dark sadness that weighed heavily in the middle of your chest. Suffocating. 

You couldn’t help it. You never could. The feeling would just wash over you all of a sudden. Hit you like a ton of bricks. And usually you felt like there was nothing you could do about it except let it play out its course. So, you spent much of your time alone. It didn’t help much. Being alone made you feel worse in many ways. You yearned for normality; Dick’s laughter and Damian’s small unamused grunts as he pretended to be interested in what was going on. You would have given anything to not feel this way again. But right now it was all too much. Even just moving felt like too much of an effort. So you remained numb up in your room, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

You were sure you had traced the patterns in the ceiling at least a hundred times in the last day or so. It was that or overthinking. You couldn’t stop the influx of thoughts. They would come all at once all angry and disappointed. And you would ponder on them for far too long before they vanished just as quickly as they arrived, leaving you once again alone.

Your family had noticed your withdrawal. They had seen you in this state before and it broke their hearts to see  you in it again, but they weren’t sure what to do. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for their emotional intelligence. They thought the next best thing to do was to give you some space, but to extend a hand if you asked for it. You never asked for it. You didn’t know how. And you didn’t want to be a burden to the rest of your family. So you remained silent.

One night, you had decided to venture out of your room. It was a quiet evening. Late autumn so the sun was already beginning to set despite the early hours of the afternoon. It had taken you a long while to decide that you wanted to move, but nevertheless you stood and moved towards your favourite spot; a place that you often found solace in. The armchair was large and plush and positioned by the window so that it caught the last slivers of golden light as they streamed through the window. You curled up on the plush leather, watching the trees shed their leaves and the sky turn a deep blue. It was a few hours later, when the stars had appeared in the sky, when the door cracked open.  The figure was silent, save for their bare feet padding against the wooden flooring. 

It was Jason who approached.  He had a blanket slung over his shoulder and two steaming mugs of hot cocoa in his hands. He paused, studding you for a moment as you stared numbly out the window. He had seen you here before. It brought him a sense of deja vu that he’d rather not feel again. Taking a step forward, he let out a gentle sigh. 

“Hey kiddo….” he started. You glanced up at him. Jason smiled sadly. It was a start. “Brought you your favourite. Thought you might be thirsty.”

He extended a mug towards you. It was topped with cream and marshmallows which were slightly melted. It was just how you liked it. Goddamnit. You took the mug from him and took a sip. The sweet liquid melted on your tongue. 

“Thank you…” You said quietly before the two of you fell into silence. Jason watched you as you went back to staring out of the window, trying to gather the words to say. It was clear that he was worried; they all were. He just didn’t know how to make you feel better. If he could even make you feel better at all. He hated seeing you like this; so lost in the darkness of your own mind. He hated it not only because you were hurting, but also because he knew that feeling all too well. He knew how much it hurt. How difficult it was to feel anything but numb and self hatred. 

“Bad week again?” he asked gently.

You just nodded. Jason always seemed to understand without pressing you. 

“Here…” he handed you the blanket, draping it over your shoulders.You hugged it tight around you, immediately overcome with the sense of familiar comfort. 

Jason didn’t say much more after that and you even less. But he took a seat on the armchair across from you before curling up with his book. It was a simple but effective gesture to show that he was there for you without overwhelming you. You glanced at him, taking a sip of your drink. And for the first time in what felt like forever you began to feel again.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY NINETEEN⛧ DAY TWENTY ONE->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[manpleblog]

[confuzed-anime-fan]

I was reading the fic Healing Wounds and it made me want to draw somethings from the first chapter.

[euesworld]

"I wish upon a star to softly hold your beautiful heart, to feel your magic in every heartbeat with all of me.. I wish, oh I wish for the softest kiss placed upon my lips. I wish, I wish your magic would consume me.. to feel your breath on my neck and feel it within my soul. I wish upon this star to forever heal your scars so that you may love yourself with ease, I wish you were here with me.."

Some wishes come true.. that's the beauty of magic - eUë

[ruminate88]

“You’re on my mind like a brain freeze, a cold distant thought. Yeah my head is a tv, I’m floating in space. What does it all mean? There’s so many lessons and unanswered questions!” - Unresolved Feelings

[slaughtermelonj]

It’s so crazy how life changes and how the painful choices led sometimes to amazing things. It’s so weird not having the people I used to have in my life. This would be one of those big moments I’d be sharing with them. However, sometimes the best decision is letting them go. Mourning lost friendships can be so very painful. I hope you’re doing the best and your life is going in the direction you want. I’ll miss you forever like crazy. I hope I made the right decision in letting you go. Hopefully, you can feel this virtual hug and have a weird strange random moment full of happiness. Here’s to our futures 🥰