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I get married to the love of my life in 24 days.

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My whole life has felt like it’s not my own. Too many things controlling so little. Suddenly, I feel stuck in a place so unforgiving and forced. Every choice I’ve made has been made for me. A linear path with no options. Breaking free is a task only made for those much stronger than myself. I, however, carry on as if I still have the strength to choose. I don’t know what I like anymore as I’ve never found things that I enjoy. Sleeping feels like the calm I need before everything else. I consume too much with too little return. I don’t think I have been the same since Covid when I felt both anxious and free.

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this blog hates donald trump

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

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🩸 Vamp Choso 🩸

Nice commenters tagged: @papersirens @absolute-flaming-trash @hideandgopeep @ventriclealchemy

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“You are responsible for the minors in your fandom!!!”

No, I’m fucking not. I’m not your parent. My past-times do not automatically sign me up to act in loco parentis. If you need someone else to monitor your own content consumption online, go get mommy and/or daddy to set up a content blocker on your computer.

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Want more bunny videos and posts?

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Manifesting Chaos:

Prompt: The Book of Lost Things. A magical book that can help the reader find anything that has been lost.

‘Bring me back God’ I hurriedly wrote in the book with the crumbling binding. Each page had a scattered, eclectic choice of wants. There were scribbles of long lost loved one’s names. Most of them are hurriedly written in pen or pencil. A few were written in a dripped red liquid. My greatest guess would be their final scrawlings of their own blood since they brought nothing else to write.

The book seemed unassuming at first. It looked like an old leather back book found on the dusty section of a dimly lit library. It wasn’t the biggest book; yet, kids wouldn’t be tricked into reading it because it was so short. Nothing seemed spectacular. In fact, it looked like it should have been sold off in a bargain bin many years ago. The title was painted in gold trim “Secrets of the Long Lost” by Eric Chamberlin.

I had almost passed by the book itself. Who would choose such a book to keep the secrets of the universe within its pages?

Above me, fluorescent lights flickered like fireflies dancing in the night. There was an eerie silence to the once bustling library. Although, I had thought there may be some screams or terror downed out when my pen finished with the page. There was no flash of lightning and no magical manifestation of whatever God I could be referring to within my own writings. I’d lost my religion so long ago that the thought of a returning deity excited my poor daily life.

In fact, I would have never written in this book beyond the first page stating:

All that write may find what they’re searching for.

Sincerely,

Eric C.

Below his name was his own written wish: my child, Elizabeth. Many of the pages were filled with loved ones, some of them with pets, and even fewer with trinkets. I read a few more in the waiting period for what I have lost. One entry read ‘my teddy bear from 5th grade’. Another said ‘my pet, Scrappy.’ One caught my eye that said ‘my will to keep living.’

All of these people were just like me. We all looked down at this book at one point through the years. Yet, did they receive their gift? Was I in the pile of idiots who tried to fill a void left by something? Or was I alone?

I became steadfast and closed the book. It was a silly endeavor to drown my own curiosity in such thoughts. Why would a god be drug to me because of a book?

The lights kept flickering as I disappeared outside. Nothing in that library had satisfied me for years. There was no reason to return after all.

Stepping outside, the air felt like electricity stirring about me. My gaze turned towards the sky as every hair stood in salute. I was right. No normal God did exist.

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Time is but a drop in the ocean (Illumi/reader) angst

Checking your phone gets lonelier the more you pick it up. Every empty vibration of someone else’s happiness angers the soul. Your best friend hanging out at a party or your worst enemy showing off their new clothes. Both feel the same in one’s eyes when he’s gone. Many nights you lay awake wondering if you’ve done something to piss him off, but you know he’s busy. 

Your fingers scroll over the messages once more. ‘Sorry my love. I have another mission. Call you tomorrow.’ It’s been three days since this. Three days of silence. Sometimes the lies feel so endless. A day always turns into three then five and soon a week ends before you can hear his voice. 

You muster up your courage and decide to call. Your hand fumbles over the picture of Illumi. It was one of the only moments you’ve caught him with the curl upward of his right lip. He stated it was a smile but you knew it was much more. He’s finally given you an opportunity to see the true him. 

The phone went to voicemail almost immediately. The electronic wizzing of “the number you have tried to reach couldn’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep.” Each word was the snap of a tightly wound cord deep inside. 

“Hey baby.” Your own breath felt empty as if the straining caught you off guard. “It’s been a few days. I was wanting to check on you.” 

Feelings had always been difficult to muster. It was easier to check up on him then to say you missed him. Cool tears rolled down your cheek and met at the bottom of the phone. It was as if each tear could be sent with the words spoken. 

“I hope you’re doing alright.” You caught your sobbing breath before it could start. A few more shaky breaths left your mouth before you felt some anger bubble up. As much as you missed him, it wasn’t the first time he neglected you. Moments of silence filled the air. “Listen, Illumi.” You didn't know where your words would take you. “I am tired of not hearing you respond. It’s been days. I…” Your voice trails off before letting out a bolder lifting sigh. “I think if you keep this up then we will need to have a deeper talk than you think. I love you.”

Your brain picks at your next words. “I love you so much Illumi. But I can’t keep doing this. Please call me back as soon as you can.” Your finger holds over the end call; however, you can’t do it. Something holds the moment in the air. Time stills. It feels so final. 

When you got the courage to turn off your phone, you knew it was over between you two. Hours turned into days which turned into weeks. There was never a call from that number again.

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I WAS RIGHT!!!!!

I think I’m getting engaged next week

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I think I’m getting engaged next week

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Teacher appreciation week

Commercial use grinder to speckles

Forged by unforgiving sales.

Purchases from a wallet that gives

Until it bends again.

Breaking beneath the weight of thousands

Of crying children.

50 percent off your worth

20 percent of needed pay

Buy one get one mental disorders

Maybe a free giveaway to a vacation

Will pacify you today.

A box of pencils or

A bag of candy

Is a petty reply for Sisyphus’s journey

If only he had to pay for the rock

And the hill

And the fall back down

“Teachers are the future” cried the public

To Future burn outs

Five years seems like a long time

When praise lasts a short while.

But the spark that ignited a fire spreads low.

Devastated the forest

And the need to re-grow.

For I cannot do it.

I’m one of the guilty

The kindling can only be harbored

By those lives we’ve changed.

Happy teachers appreciation

But only those those who make change.

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dm'ing a mutual you've never interacted with one-on-one is so embarrassing like. hi.... im sorry. you can kill me if you want... can i have your discord..... if not.. feel free to shoot me down where i stand... im sorry.. i'll leave..

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It’s my birthday today!!!!

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Christmas bunny!!!!!

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Most of you don’t know but I’m massively into theater. This year I was given the opportunity to direct Alice in Wonderland. It was so good! I was able to watch them grow as actors and stage crew. I’m so proud of my kids. I’m so proud of my own growth. It was a massive production with about 50 kids.

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I miss all the friends I had on here. Sorry I’ve been busy.