moodybjoness - Tumblr blog

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Window dressing, Federico Rios Escobar

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instagram.com/biancamitsuko x savagexfenty

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happy december

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instagram.com/bodyposipanda

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Yin Yang by Stitchrovia - a Labor of Love by jenleepeace

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Spring nights

Puerto Natales, Magallanes & La Antartica Chilena.

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Growing up (disappointment) by Ariee

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instagram.com/adamselman (sport clothing brand)

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[moodybjoness]

when you fuck up, you have to actually say “i really fucked this up & it’s on me” in order to be better. there’s no room for projecting or acting like a victim. no room for excuses or acting like you don’t care. you have to actually grow the fuck up & take responsibility for every consequence. there’s no growth without accountability.

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[moodybjoness]

Dear diary, I'm sex drunk. Respectfully.

I told myself that I need to come on here and write before seven days hits or on. (we do organization around here) However, today calls for a break from the plan because these moments aren't leaving my head and quite frankly me and my lady friend (cough cough) can't stop replaying last nights events in my head.

I think the funniest part about this is I trusted myself to enter into an unlikely and unfavorable situation because of my need for physical touch, affection, and attention. Now, it seems as if I have fucked myself over because I am very much fucking with the vibes I'm received and it's sickening.

It's sickening because–(fuck, I just realized I never really said what happened, so let me back track...)

I started this....kink based BDSM relationship with this dude I know from my hometown. Details aren't important, but let's just say that lil ol' me is having a grand fucking time being thrown around, spanked, and worked when he comes around. HOWEVER, as of recently, the vibes I'm reading seem to have a little bit more to them.

(It could be because my ass literally gives him the googly eyes in public. Big aphrodite vibes)

But also, I really love fucking this man and it's everything I've been wanting in a sexual experience and more. I feel like I deserve. So I'm going for it.

Now I feel like I want to take that mile that every talks about when they give somoene an inch. I want to turn around after doing work and see him with his big dick ready to ravish me after my 9-5 in the office. I want to look forward to random gifts because I've been a good girl.

I really want a black christian bale. The love story included. (And that's MY FUCKING PROBLEM!)

Me, like the rest of America, get's so carried away with the inches we're given, we end up in the corner of the club trying to figure out how to look cute and rock this 50 inch hair. (Ghetto! Ridiculous. A joke!)

(And yes, IM allowed to say this. I'm black as hell.)

Now I have to figure out how to have my cake and not go back for thirds because I want to and I'm willing to look like an ass getting it. Humility stops me further than she would stop others. That's for sure.

Is the challenge to stop overthinking or is the challenge to practice discipline?

[moodybjoness]

Dear Diary, it’s a full moon...

Yes. It’s a full moon. Before this blog started...let me stop lying. Before 2020, I used to just revel in the beauty of Luna when she got full and would even ask my partner (fuck that nigga on sight) to sit outside in the grass and watch the moon while we smoked. 

Obviously it didn’t happen. But what did happen is that I’ve grown to stop relying on people to do things that bring me joy.

Have you ever experienced that? The need to include someone or SOMETHING in the space you take for yourself? Even as I type it out, it doesn’t resonate with me because of the literal words, “someone” colliding with “yourself.”

Why are we so obsessed with inclusion of others, when we haven’t made a home in ourselves?

[moodybjoness]

A Formal Introduction

Welcome. This is my brain on weed. On medication. On chocolate. Fresh out of a relationship with nowhere to be, no bed to rush to, and no one to check me about the time of creation on this blog. Fuck ‘em if they did. (irl I’m not this gusty, but keep in mind, this is my brain)

With this blog, I am giving myself a much needed outlet. But an outlet that feed my need for attention, because let’s face it. I fucking love that shit.

I’m hoping my raw thoughts on life. love. food. politics. and random other shit entertain. (more importantly, I hope you find joy in reading these posts just as much as I enjoy making them on the fly. raw. uncut)

Before I divulge into anything else about my life, I want to explain the which in way I’ll be typing for the remainder of this privately public diary. When I type in regular font like this, I’m addressing my diary. (but when I type like this, I’m talking to you. hi there. *insert Debbie Ryan face here*)

As you can tell, I kind of like things to be established so I don’t have to clarify along the way. Because fucking hell, it’s a long way to go. I want to share everything, but of course I can’t because that’ll ruin the experience for me, and provide for a very complicated fall out afterward. And I’m prettttyyy sure you want to know what shit I go through and the black queens around me too.

BUT, there are things I won’t share with you. That being, my age, job, location, names of others, specific stores, and any other sensitive information that may reveal my identity to you. For this specific reason, I’ll make sure to create alternative names.

Whew. I think I got that all out, and I hope this makes sense to you. I haven’t been on tumblr in a while, but I’ve only had great memories and look forward to making more with you...

~ With disdain, because fuck ‘em,

Moody B. Jones