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balls to the walls, baby
#balls#to#the#walls#balls to the walls#taking my balls out and putting them on the walls#btw my balls are currently nonexistent
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I hired this voidlynn to stare at you
Ykw I'm also hiring this Radium to stare at YOU🫵/pos
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Unveiling the Truth: How Writing Gave Me My Voice
"When I write about my early years, I reflect on my trauma and how it has shaped me. Writing has become my anchor – a tool – a way for me to process what I’ve been through – a way to make sense of things – the things I’ve had to emotionally deal with on my own. It is through this process that I’ve learned to validate my emotions, giving space to the deep-seated sense of injustice that lingers. The anger tied to those moments, the weight of what I endured, requires an acknowledgment. Trauma, no matter how it presents, deserves recognition. How does one come to terms with something they were never fully aware of – like a disability they didn’t know they had?
My emotions are so impaired that grieving isn't something I am able to do. Instead, I've replaced it with creating space through my writing, to allow my emotions to be expressed freely. It is because I have autism that I struggle to articulate and verbalise how I feel and what I want to say and how to say it. Instead, my inner reflections help me to process the trauma – a life of struggles. Without any apologies, it's something I shall have to acknowledge, and will have to place instead.
Writers Voice: I came across this meaning of "writer's voice" which sums its definition up beautifully. So what is it? To me, your writer’s voice is the expression of YOU on the page. It’s that simple—and that complicated. Your voice is all about honesty. It’s the unfettered, non-derivative, unique conglomeration of your thoughts, feelings, passions, dreams, beliefs, fears and attitudes, coming through in every word you write. (Source: rachellegardnercom)
The CP Diary is the truthful, unfettered, conglomeration of my thoughts, feelings, beliefs, fears and attitude coming through in every word I write. Like others, living with trauma, acknowledgement is the first step towards healing – it's also recognising the reality of the trauma, and its injustice. It’s taking the time to understand the lasting impact it’s had on you and your life. It's about working through those experiences.
For me, writing, isn't just about observing my experiences, it's engaging with the reality of my situation and finding an acceptance. It's a way for me to process and draw on my thoughts and insights, to help me articulate my experiences, of how I feel. I use creative expression through my blog to understand and to try to come to terms with my trauma, peeling back the layers of my experiences. What matters most for me, is letting my writing guide my journey towards healing and justice.
Without realising it, writing is my justice. It gives me a voice – a voice for the silenced. It allows me to preserve and bask in the truth and through writing to challenge sustained unjust treatment and prolonged cruelty. Through my words, I hold those responsible – accountable, they know what they have done – while creating space for understanding. Writing transforms my pain into awareness for others, turning my story into the catalyst for change. Justice lies in its ability to educate, and to inspire. My words carry the power to shift perspectives, for others too. I hope my writing can change others' opinions and support change.
When I write I am no longer invisible. It's an act of defiance – reaffirming that my experiences mattered, that what happened to me deserves recognition – my writing helps me to reclaim agency and ask that the world listens and doesn't look away."
For more relatable, inspirational and lifestyle blogs, please check out my site https://www.thecpdiary.com
#thecpdiary#blog#Unveiling#the#Truth#How#Writing#Gave#Me#My#Voice#personal journey#mental health#mental wellness#healing#healthandwellbeing
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Your heart is not open
so I must go The spell has been broken
I loved you so Freedom comes
when you learn to let go Creation comes
when you learn to say no
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You were my lesson
I had to learn I was your fortress
you had to burn Pain is a warning
that something's wrong I pray to God
that it won't be long
Do ya wanna go higher?
There's nothing left
to try There's no place left
to hide There's no greater power Than the power of
goodbye
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Your heart is not open
so I must go The spell has been broken
I loved you so You were my lesson
I had to learn I was your fortress
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There's nothing left
to lose There's no more heart
to bruise There's no greater
power Than the power of
goodbye
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Learn to say goodbye I yearn to say goodbye
There's nothing left
to try There's no more places
to hide There's no greater
power Than the power of
goodbye
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There's nothing left
to lose There's no more heart
to bruise There's no greater
power Than the power
of goodbye
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January 27th-But then the work begins, changing that heart to show others that He does indeed reside and reign in our heart.
Exodus 25:8“Let them construct a sanctuary for Me, that I may dwell among them. 9“According to all that I am going to show you, as the pattern of the tabernacle and the pattern of all its furniture, just so you shall construct it. The Lord gives precise instructions to His people on building a place for Him to reside. Today, though, we receive Him into our hearts. But then the work begins,…
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Major Shock
Me when my relatives make no sense
#Tragic#Sleepy#Princess#ini#The#Demon#King#Castle#anime#fanart#maoujou de oyasumi#sleepy princess in the demon castle#Suya#Anime#Travesty#POV#sad#Fanart#fan art
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Too much time spent
Too many nights that I felt dead
Too many nights I
Too many nights I grabbed my own chest
Saw my own death
She said it's all in my head
#music#of#the#day#favorite songs#song#song of the day#song lyrics#songwriter#musica#canzoni#citazioni#le migliori frasi#frasi tumblr#frasi#frasi italiane#frasi musica#pensieri#riflessioni#quote#movie quotes#love quotes#bible quote#quoteoftheday#beautiful quote#love quote#book quote#sanremo#sanremo 2025#tumblr italia
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Roberta Sapienza
Greyhound
#the#sighthound#bulletin#greyhound#sighthoundmuseum#greyhoundlovers#art#contemporaryart#contemporaryartist#greyhoundsmakegreatpets#greyhoundathome#greyhoundattitude#greyhoundsaspets#greyhounds#greyhoundart#greyhound art#borzoi#artist#canineart
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Muse
Summary: The Salesman and his perfect wife. Her charm. Driven by obsession and love, they use Y/N’s beauty as a tool to navigate their dark mission, bound by loyalty and ambition.
Warnings: Psychological manipulation, dark themes, emotional distress, violence (implied), fluff (?) etc!
Characters: The Sales Man x F! Reader *Y/n*
Now Playing… Angel - Massive Attack
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The subway platform hummed faintly with the sound of trains coming and going, the air heavy with the metallic tang of the underground. The Salesman, dressed in his black suit, sat on a bench, casually shuffling a stack of ddakji cards in his hand. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes darted across the sea of commuters, searching for that look of desperation.
Beside him stood Y/N, his wife. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was magnetic, a force of nature wrapped in elegance. Her siren-shaped eyes scanned the crowd with an almost predatory look, yet there was warmth in her expression—a warmth designed to sooth. She wore a tailored black double-breasted blazer dress with pleated detailing at the skirt. It is paired with thigh-high black stockings and black platform heels, creating a sleek and commanding look. A leather expensive bag hanging from her shoulder. The glow from the subway lights reflected off her flawless skin, and every small gesture—adjusting her coat, brushing a strand of hair from her face—seemed effortlessly captivating.
The Salesman’s hand paused mid-shuffle as he stole a glance at her. He did this often, watching her like she was the most precious thing in the world. She wasn’t just his wife; she was his obsession, his reason for everything.
He leaned closer, his voice low and tender. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight, love. You look… beautiful.”
She smirked, not looking at him but instead scanning the platform. “Flattery doesn’t get us any closer to finding the right one, hun.”
It’s not flattery if it’s true, he murmured, his tone adoring. “You could stop every train on this line with just a smile. How lucky am I to have you all to myself?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Focus,” she said, though her voice softened.
“That one,” she said suddenly, nodding toward a man in a rumpled suit. His shoulders were slumped, his tie ripped, and his shoes were scuffed. He sat on a bench a few feet away, his head in his hands as though he carried the weight of the world on his back.
The Salesman followed her gaze and smiled. “You always know, don’t you? It’s like a sixth sense.”
“I’ve had a good teacher,” she replied, glancing at him.
“No, Y/N,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re the teacher. I’m just your devoted student.”
She gave him a sidelong look, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Is that so?”
“I don’t know how I ever lived before you,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “And I don’t ever want to find out.”
Y/N paused for a moment, her sharp focus flickering as she looked at him. There was something both endearing and unsettling about his intensity, the way his entire world seemed to revolve around her. But she thrived on it.
“Then let’s not waste time,” she said, her voice smooth and confident.
Y/N approached the man first, her movements slow and deliberate. She lowered herself onto the bench beside him, angling her body just enough to draw his attention. “You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she said gently, her voice soothed his nerves.
The man looked up, startled, his tired eyes meeting hers. “Uh… yeah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You could say that.”
Y/N tilted her head, her dark hair falling gracefully over one shoulder. “Sometimes it feels like the world is working against you, doesn’t it?”
The man hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Feels like that all the time.”
Her hand dipped into her bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped sandwich. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
The man stared at the offering, his hunger betraying his hesitation. He accepted it slowly. “Thanks.”
As he unwrapped the sandwich, the Salesman approached, his ddakji cards in hand and a warm smile on his face. He didn’t sit right away, instead standing in front of the man, towering just slightly but without menace. “My wife has a habit of helping people,” he said with a chuckle. “I hope she’s not bothering you.”
The man shook his head, chewing a bite of the sandwich. “No. She’s… kind.”
“She’s perfect,” the Salesman said without hesitation, his eyes lingering on Y/N. “I’m just lucky she keeps me around.”
Y/N shot him a look, a mixture of affection and amusement, but said nothing.
The Salesman sat down on the man’s other side, flipping a ddakji card between his fingers. “You know, sometimes life feels like a game, doesn’t it? Full of chances, risks, and rewards.” He held the card up. “Care to play one? A simple game, nothing too serious.”
The man frowned, his suspicion returning. “What kind of game?”
Y/N leaned forward, her voice soft and enticing. “A chance to change everything. One decision. That’s all it takes.”
The man hesitated, his hands fidgeting with the sandwich wrapper. Y/N’s gaze stayed on him, her expression warm yet commanding, as though willing him to comply.
“I don’t have anything to bet,” the man said finally.
“Your time,” the Salesman replied smoothly. “That’s all I need. And if you win, you’ll get something far more valuable in return.”
The man’s curiosity won out, as it always did. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
The Salesman grinned, setting the game in motion. The sharp slap of the ddakji cards echoed across the platform. The man was clumsy at first, but as the Salesman encouraged him, his confidence grew. Y/N watched quietly, her eyes flicking between the cards and the man’s face, reading him like an open book.
When the man finally won, the Salesman handed him the invitation, its gold lettering gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
“Congratulations,” the Salesman said, his voice warm. “You’ve earned a chance to change your life.”
The man stared at the invitation, his hands trembling. “What… what is this?”
“An opportunity,” Y/N said, her voice as smooth as silk. “Follow the instructions, and everything will make sense.”
As they walked away, Y/N reached for her husband’s arm, holding onto him with affection. “You’re incredible,” he said softly.
“You’ve told me that a hundred times today,” Y/N replied, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
“Because it’s true,” he insisted, stopping to pull her close. “Everything I do, every move I make, it’s all for you. You’re my beginning and my end, Y/N. My only reason.”
Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, the weight of his devotion pressing against her. But she nodded, her voice firm. “And I’ll always stand by you. No matter what.”
They were bound together by love, ambition, and an obsession that no one—not even themselves—could escape. She was his muse.
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TikTok: @gnstay
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Tags:
#squid game imagine#squid game#squid game s2#squid game2#the#the salesman#gong yoo#gong yoo x reader#gong yoo x you#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#squid game x oc#fluff#fanfic#explore#oneshot#viralpost#tiktok#imagine
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oh shit I forgot Jackie already had a bf before Jerry, oops 😹😹
referring to last post btw
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my itft obsession is rising from the dead. expect like 1500 posts about it this week
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Doodles are whats keeping me sane at this time.(also why dose fukaze look so lesbian.whatever that means.)
#the#*checks calendar#8 tests in the next 3 weeks#will be the end of me#anywho fukaze i love fukaze!!!#fukaze#fudou akio#caleb stonewall#kazemaru ichirouta#nathan swift#natan zając.#inazuma 11#ina11#inazuma11 go
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