#but that’s life babe!!

[happycrabitat]

Take the memory, leave the shell! Watch what happens when we return seashells to the beach & marine hermit crabs!

Seashells are so important to beaches for a whole host of reasons.

🐚Over-shelling can affect hermit crabs because it reduces the availability of suitable shells for them to inhabit. Hermit crabs rely on empty shells of other creatures for protection and shelter. When there are too few shells available, hermit crabs may be forced to inhabit inadequate shells & pollution as homes, which can hinder their growth and make them more vulnerable to predators and environmental stressors. This can ultimately impact their survival and reproductive success.

🐚Shells provide homes or attachment surfaces for algae, sea grass, sponges, coral and a host of other microorganisms.

🐚Animals such as decorator crabs and octopus use shells as camouflage and many fish use shells as hiding places to avoid predators.

🐚Shells help to stabilize beaches and anchor seagrass.

🐚Shells are used by shorebirds to build nests.

🐚When shells break down, they provide nutrients for the organisms living in the sand or for those that build their own shells. (Shells are a major source of calcium.) I’m a firm believer in when we know better, we do better. I once shelled, and then when I learned all of this, I returned all shells that were not sprayed with a clear varnish to the beach & watched the marine hermit crabs go wild changing shells that were so needed!

[theblackfemininesociety]

ALL 2024.

CLAIMING IT NOW.

IT IS YOURS.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

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[justholdbabe]

[theloyalpin]

releasing 30+ versions of one album should result in you being sniped tbh

[sleepy-bebby]

[etherealarte]

chandler bailey

[carolinatsversion]

timdamas

[temeyes]

nibble (photo ref here!!)

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Meanwhile, MC to Lucifer:

MC's the actual Daddy Dom of the series.

[ruubesz-draws]

When bae is angry at you

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[justholdbabe]

[motheyes]

my hips hurt from sitting and laying. they’d hurt if i was walking more. they always hurt regardless

[tenrosedyke]

I love Logan being in his pathetic little depressed cunt era. Like yeah thats right. your kids all hate you and fucked off like you told them to and they were the only people that challenged you and now you're stuck in room after room of people who cater to your every whim and are too afraid to even crack a joke at your expense. you got everything you wanted and now you're dealing with the consequences. BITCH

[foreverrryourssss]