#tree thoughts

[clairenatural]

there's a cherry blossom tree in DC that keeps blooming every year even though it shouldn't and the park service keeps thinking it's dead and then it keeps blooming! well they're removing a lot of trees to rehabilitate the area and they've said it's finally time for stumpy to go and they're going to mulch it and use the mulch to enrich all the other trees so it can help everything else keep going. and they're also going to plant spliced little pieces of it all over so that stumpy can live forever and this is genuinely sending me into a spiral

[gimme-that-felix-content]

the family tree

[artsymeeshee]

Another themed outfit for the Pines, this time cherry blossoms 🌸!!

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[dreamyblanket]

Yearning from the nothing dimension [rambling in tags ^^]

[orionfrommars]

Happy Holidays from the sillies!!

[Please do not steal, trace, repost or modify my work]

[starlingzzz]

fast and furious finale perhaps?

[webweabings]

TO RETURN TO MY TREES

“The Overstory” (2019), by Richard Powers; // “Wild Fruits: Thoreau's Rediscovered Last Manuscript” (2001), by Henry David Thoreau; // Kim Novak; // Chinese Proverb; // “To the lighthouse” (1927), by Virginia Woolf; // Santosh Kalwar; // Albert Szent-Gyorgyi; // “Cosmos” (1980), by Carl Sagan; // “Timeline” (1999), by Michael Crichton

[bandofchimeras]

I feel discouraged lately, but maybe a bit more sober. the emotional wreckage around my family of origin...they cannot be my foundation. no scene or social group will automatically replace that. not even a friend group. nothing can.

while I am glad my family is still here and alive, talking to them feels like suffocating to death. they're not even being particularly /mean/ they just can't level. they cannot have a real talk. they live in a rotting honey bubble of nostalgia.

it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. and yes I'm an adult and no they don't have power over me anymore. yes I ought to build my own life.

and yet the world is not a kind place that parts ways for you. every inch you fight for, lose it again.

I did a lot without guidance. and fucked up. I've been a rager and an ideologue and cruel and inconsiderate and ashamed and controlling and desperate and greedy as often as I've been kind or loving or noble.

now I'm here authoring my own story feeling ill prepared and anxious at how badly and how many times it is possible to fuck up more. at how many directions there are to go. holding onto any relationship with anyone that's longer than a year or two old as proof I'm not evil, not unlovable and disposable or narcissistic, I am normal! I am not marred by irreparable loss!

unfortunately not sure that's true anymore. The way I've lived up til now has me fucked up.

any attempt at making emotional boundaries goes awry. people abruptly give up on me. I'm mean and hard edged to anyone who doesn't have the exact same values, judgmental and suspicious. flighty. I find myself lovable as an abstraction, an idea, not a sweaty meaty lump of confusion and desire as everyone is under all our image polishing.

That's just it. everyone's life fucks them up down here. and there's too much pressure, trying to create some beautiful new future before it's time, give it all away like an already dead seafall whale drifting to the bottom of the ocean, some martyr who can't even say "stop. I'm uncomfortable with that." or "please, I'd like you to stay."

if there's any light in the despair of looking honestly at myself it's in finding acceptance. I'm twenty eight and have done, seen, experienced and known very little yet. I've made a public fool of myself for years to both respectable society and anyone with streetsmarts. I live in a cloud of doubt and confusion and my cognitive clarity has lessened like glasses scratched from wear. I am on edge from sensing constant disrespect, my debt is significant and my health declining. most days I struggle to walk, get out of bed, and eat.

yet in my soul is something beautiful that refuses to give up entirely.

as my dreams did I place their corpses into rotboxes and plant a few new seeds.

Something else will happen no matter how many times you surrender to your own failure. die and rot and grow again.

To be constantly resetting and never feeling a sense of true maturity, longevity, is this grief in a world that kills and kills and kills children again and again. yet in every new child new generation there is a fierce firey little hope, a persistence. An insistence on the future honed against stones of endless numbing oppression. Endurance.

If I've got nothing else I'll build that first. And bet my story will simply be a slow one.

I'm not dead yet. And I'm okay with being dead. I'd rather be most days. But because I'm not dead yet I'll find another way to live every day.

[lanaluuart]

Just Cole droppin those words of wisdom.

[tillydouspart]

and there we go! continuation of my hermitcraft but lore accurate au thing! with a reconciliation of sorts?

part 1 | part 2

[xx-sketchy-xx]

I kept thinking about how Mabel said she thought he was dead while being possessed… and it doesn’t take long for blood flow to stop. So I had a thought that none of the injuries caused by bill would truly appear until dipper was back in control. So any fork stabs, bruises, scratches, would only appear when his blood was flowing again.

just a thought

[livefromthedas]

Felt like we needed one for our boy/beloved hot mess.

[toneelspeelster]

by jasmin kaur

[bananakeiky]

i kept thinking about this during the quest

[bestjeanistmonster]

Dc au- felt like being goofy

…but since Shadow is raising these plants i think we can classify this as a case of passing on generational trauma.