squidlingcreates

[squidlingcreates]

BUNGER?

No thank you zzzz

[squidlingcreates]

How many peepis to a B U N G E R

1 pepis. 0 peepis. No bunger.

[squidlingcreates]

Winter Flowers

The best part of my day is when I pass the fence that guards my community. The fence is bordered by flowers that pop their colors at me, training my eye to spot them before I leave each day. It has been the same for years, never failing to bring a smile to my face. 

The seasons change the colors and smells, each passing month bringing a cycle I have found to be comforting. It has become part of me just as much as the place I sleep in. Purple lilacs and pink sweet peas mix their scent with rancor as I run home from work every day. Their sweet scent reaches my nose right before I close my door, my rain boots soaked both inside and out. I never could afford an umbrella, even as the months past with the cold rain plastering my hair to my face.

In the summer my work days are much more calm, as I find myself reaching down to touch the yellow roses and white lilies around the fence. Most of the people that are my neighbors run straight to the bench a few blocks from our complex. I find the flowers more than enough make the view for the five minutes I have left remaining in the morning before I have to report in to work.

Fall comes and the leaves turn red, the trees laying themselves bare with the cold that settles in everyone’s bones. This is the time where although I would like to stop, the fence is a mere memory before the cold urges me to push on. However, in my memories I see pink Chrysanthemums and Golden sunflowers. Their hue takes the form of what I crave the most during these dark times. The sun sets sooner and my heart plunges as I dread the winter. 

Winter was strange this year. The rose bush the gardener usually picks to plant becomes infected and the bugs chew at the precious red petals that remain. The holly berries fall before I can appreciate them, their mushed remains stained the walkway that strays from the complex. Watching the flower bed deteriorate broke my heart,  the thought of them being the only thing that would have pushed me through this winter.

 I had grown more alarmed as the days and weeks past by, my body urging me to wake up earlier and earlier to see if the gardener would fix the little piece of home that was missing. I peaked outside my door every morning, the tiniest creak enough to see the bed of decaying flowers. The hours peaking through my door got longer and longer and the sun rose halfway through my watchful shifts. But no matter how early I woke up, the gardener would never arrive. 

The bleakness of the white snow was interrupted one morning as red and blue lights flashed in the darkness early one morning. The cops had come to question the owner of the complex and like the other curious tenants, I had joined the crowd outside of the office. The smell from the sweet flowers that had been planted there the previous seasons had vanished in the winter, leaving only the smell of rotting flesh.

 My eyes stared at the cops that dug out the remaining flowers left in the garden as my heart pumped through my chest. The red petals mixed in with the brown dirt as they dug, sweat dripping from their foreheads as they went deeper and deeper. Finally, they reached flowers of a different kind. Bright white skeletal fingers joined the bed, parts separate as they went more urgently. The last thing they brought out was a human skull, its whiteness crowned with grey and green weeds as they brought the gardener’s head with them to the station.  

[squidlingcreates]

Morning Coffee

The smell hits me before the sight does, The strong punch of almond and vanilla permeates my nose as the liquid turns brown in my cup. It is strong, and made i so many different ways every morning but it tastes just the same. Whether by using a machine, doing it by hand, the taste of the drink is the only thing consistent in my life.

The white porcelain cup hits my hands as she hands it to me, seemingly flawless except for a small chip on the corner where my lips touch it. As the days go on and the bitter drink passes past my lips, the chip turns into a crack that runs down the seams of the mug.

With or without her, the sharp taste of it hits my senses. The warmth of it fills my body as I wake up in the bright hours of the day.

This morning coffee reminds me that I am alive. 

[squidlingcreates]

Introduction

So this is my first post on Tumblr. At least, my first post as this account. I'm unsure what I want to do here except express myself for me. I am not sure how many people will see this or if it will even matter amongst all the content on all these social media platforms.

But I do know that this will at least be in some way therapeutic. I think I need this to start here. So hello! My name is Squid-Sama. I'll be posting whatever I want here that isn't relating to reposts or Fandom. I promise the more I post the more it will be worth it. I hope I can be of some form of entertainment to you. I hope you can enjoy your stay on this blog!