Feelings - Tumblr Posts
I read somewhere the other day “how would you describe your current season in life?” here’s my answer:
I think I would say winter. But not the cold peak winter. It’s like, you’ve been through the harsh, painful winter storms, but you aren’t completely out of it. Spring is coming soon, but you still aren’t sure when. I’ve walked through the ice and rain; I endured it. I lost my warm coat on the way. I could’ve made it out in a better condition, but I made it out. It’s the last stretch of winter. A few light drizzles and heavy rains come at me, but I know spring is near. I've almost made it, and that’s all that matters.
And some hearts too! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖🫀💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
I hold a grudge against my life
I hold a grudge against the people
Our dreams were never considered
Our hopes never enough
I didn't think life was this way
I guess I was wrong
I pray for a shelter to put my head
And pray for time to stop
I took a picture of the mess because I know one day I will miss it and I wont know where to look.
I took a photo of all the 'dirty' places of my home. the kitchen sink where my sister left muffin tins and the counter where she left her notes and her pens. I took a picture of the chalkboard my brother scribbled all over and his spiderman slippers on our shrinking shoe rack.
because I know one day I will miss it all. when my sister is long moved out and my brother wants nothing to do with me, when my mother is overworked and underpaid and can no longer find the energy to watch tv with me after her shift. maybe I wont have the energy either, I don't know. However, I do know that I will miss the time when I did, and when the sink was disgusting, and when the bathroom floor wore my sisters clothes better than I ever could. So,
I took a picture of the mess because I know one day I will miss it and I won't know where to look.
💖My Heart💖
our favourite spot~
print! | kofi ♡
in my mind somewhere there is a version of myself dedicated to screaming “i don’t want an angry man in my house” 24 hours 7 days a week
Semicolon.
Faithwear by American Peasant on @TeePublic! Christian Streetwear, Apparel, Gifts. Faith Fueled, Spirit Led T-Shirt Designs are imbued with a Tattoo Feel, curated tee to uplift your style. In Jesus' name, Amen.
But Now I'm Found.
Faithwear by American Peasant on @TeePublic! Christian Streetwear, Apparel, Gifts. Faith Fueled, Spirit Led T-Shirt Designs are imbued with a Tattoo Feel, curated tee to uplift your style. In Jesus' name, Amen.
❀ Pansy n°6 = Oneiric inspiration.
oneiric |ə(ʊ)ˈnʌɪrɪk| adjective - formal → relating to dreams or dreaming. ORIGIN = mid 19th century: from Greek oneiros ‘dream’ + -ic.
I love this word. In my opinion it is a formal but beautiful way to put into words the subconscious universe that is a dream.
I love dreaming.
As I wrote in a former entry, getting too far in my head and imagination is something I do a lot, enjoy and try to make healthy. My fascination for the oneiric world started at a young age with my ability to remember my dreams. I remembered them so well that more often than not I was able to continue them on multiple nights. It was also really cool to be able to count them back to people - it created many laughs, thanks to the weird dream logic.
Then I started working (it was not really a difficult or boring task, still it took time) on being able to remember more by forcing myself to think about what I saw straight when I woke up. Sometimes - when I was not too lazy - I wrote them down to get all the details. It is by working on those details that I started creating universes, worlds and stories of my own. I ended up with multiple characters, their backgrounds; future, relationships and development in a made up world. That is how started my first ever draft for my fantasy story. Based on dreams and worked on in my dreams. I could not stop thinking about it. In fact, that’s what happens when I get really inspired for a story, I just can’t stop picturing things in my mind, trying to make sense of it and developing my ideas. I get so focused yet I struggle to write - writer’s block am I right ? :/
However, there was one time when I had difficulties expanding my dream into a story. Why ? you may ask. Well, dear reader, it was because I was inspired by a nightmare and at first thinking about it again made it difficult for me to fall asleep - obviously… I won’t go into much detail about this nightmare because I plan on making a thriller out of it, but what intrigued me the most was that it was one of those dreams…
A lucid dream.
In fact, I knew I was dreaming and could control some of the things happening around me. I LOVE those types of dreams - except when they’re nightmares, and of course it happens to me quite a lot. Lucid dreaming was the next step to improve my “dream ability”. Those dreams are when you realize you are dreaming and can control what you can do (sometimes ^^).
Usually, to work on lucid dreaming, we are told to try and have the reflex of looking at your hands - because they’ll never be normal in your dreams. Or try and read something - yet again you’re not supposed to be able to see coherent words written. Even though I know these tricks - called “reality checks” - work, I personally just let them happen normally.
Indeed, I have been blessed with the ability to lucid dream without much effort since I was a child - only realizing it was that as I grew up. So often do I have periods during which many lucid dreams come to plague my mind at night. It usually happens when I am in a semi-state of sleep, like half-awake. So it happens that sometimes I am too tired and the control slips out of my grasp. Still, I think it’s an amazing experience.
I guess my lucid dreams are triggered thanks to the fact that I tend to fall asleep making up scenarios and fully controlling my dreams - at that moment. And what gets me to recognize I am lucid dreaming is that I am almost always in first person p.o.v. Nevertheless, what I like the most about lucid dreams and inspires me the most - as I remember it more and it shocks me - are the sensations I get.
Yes, sensations.
Call me crazy if you want but I happen to feel so many things while dreaming - it’s mainly why I believe in shifting. Most of the time I can feel the warmth of things in my dreams, especially when I am close to someone or being embraced. Things definitely don’t feel real but they feel extremely similar. And I think it is extraordinary that you can feel in your head.
What’s even more unreal and that I particularly love, is the dream feeling of being kissed. It is just ethereal… I am someone very fond of physical affection - like, that’s literally one of my love languages - and it is just so awesome and astounding to be able to feel these types of things in your head.Once, I remember, I had a dream in which I kissed someone’s cheek and it had a little stubble, and the feeling I thought I had on my lips was just so weird and felt so real !
So it’s when I started having more and more of those feelings filled lucid dreams that I realized how fascinating and powerful the human brain really is. We can truly trick ourselves, with our own imagination ! And it is why I believe shifting to be possible/real. I, personally, am not an active shifter. I have tried, succeeded a bit and tried again sometimes but I prefer not to force it. I also think that I have succeeded a few times without realizing, so I let it come naturally.
The shifting community can be quite biased and not of the best advice on certain platforms - *cough cough* tiktok… - but also because there are “conflicts” within the community. I don’t associate with it mostly because I don’t really keep myself informed about it, so I don’t want/can’t to appear as a specialist on the matter. But… I have my opinion on how shifting might work.
I think that you are just diving so deep in your subconscious that you can explore all of its power. I like this explanation better than projecting your mind into another dimension. Moreover, I think that both the opinions I gave - among many others - still work to explain reality shifting because in the end we explore other realities regardless.
Anyway !
Shifting is harder for me as I ask myself too many questions and don’t really like to plan my dreams with scripts. Don’t get me wrong, I loved writing scripts for universes I knew I wanted to shift to, but I am always so scared of forgetting something. Plus because of my dream obsession I am scared that if I succeed, I will never want to come back. Still, I know I am never going to stop being inspired by what my mind creates.
→ Quote I like = “Everything that is or was, began with a dream” - Lavagirl.
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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺
❀ Pansy n°7 = I'm "over"-everything.
To begin, yes, it is tiring. It’s impossibly tiring to be this prone to overwhelming.
It never was a secret that I am an overthinker. Like my brain literally never f*cking stops, always fuming and reeling. It caused me too many insomnias - the images, sounds, memories and information in my head running and distorting without break. It’s insufferable.
Yet, that's not all. Sadly it is also difficult to survive overthinking on a daily basis. Especially in a social environment. My brain is just… dying. The world feels and seems constantly against me. I always think that everyone around me is watching and judging my every move. Looking out for the small moments when I’ll mess up and be cringe.
So it’s difficult to allow myself to act as I want because I feel like I will be judged and hated either way, never belonging to the unity. Like I am bound to stand out, to be left out by the social group. To try and avoid that, my brain analyzes everything and everyone but often is irrational. Because I over analyze how people see me, what they might think or feel; but in the end I am just projecting my fears onto them way too much. Yet, I end up stuck, struggling to fit in, alone up in my head thinking I’m not interesting, weird, not worth anyone’s time and hated by everyone.
Nice right ? :)
My mind just tricks me to believe that I am the worst and cringiest person in the world. I have been told before that I question myself too much. In fact, I prefer to - and cannot help but - analyze every situation in which I could be the source of a problem before blaming the other party. I also try to find many excuses for others. Maybe I am too gullible and try too much to see the good in people, or that I’ve been used to caring for others before myself. The problem with this is that unconsciously I expect the same train of thought from others when most times it is not the case. Sadly, it ended up hurting me as it is easy for people to take advantage of my overthinking.
→ Toxic people (narcissistic perverts…) like to make you feel guilty - often through gaslighting - and overthinkers are the pros for that… :/
However, my cousin has been teaching me to find the positive side of those habits that I don’t like. And I came to the conclusion that this habit made me more observant and that when my worries are communicated it makes for good and deep conversations. Apparently it also makes people question themselves more - or so I’ve been told :/.
Therefore I try to be more kind to myself and calm my overthinking by communicating. It’s not easy everyday… But it is so important. As important as speaking about your feelings.
I’m still learning how good it is for oversensitive people like me. I’ve always struggled to speak up about my emotions because I always thought they didn’t have value or importance or even that I was being overdramatic, faking it. it was like I never had a good enough reason to express myself and make people lose time on me, like I’m not worth it.
So I always second guess myself and think about the true worth of communicating what’s bothering me. Because if it’s little and I’m just blowing it or that in the end it turns out I was tricking myself and faking it unconsciously, I’ll just feel ultra guilty of wasting someone’s time and energy. Especially as I strive to make people around me feel good, safe, heard and comfortable (with me). And I know I tend to blow things out of proportion. Like I feel horrible when someone makes a tiny and precise criticism about my work even though I did all the rest well. Because it’s like I disappoint them by not doing good enough.
The problem with me is that “good enough” has to be as close to “perfect” as possible. Simply because if I put energy in it I should go 100% and nail it. If it’s not the case then why waste time and embarrass myself ? Though I’ve been trying to understand - more to assimilate - that everyone’s 100% is different and even that every day’s 100% is different. And that’s completely okay and normal.
I’ve just been taught at school that you have to keep a high constant of activity even though it’s obviously not possible.
Disappointing people is one of my greatest fears. I think that might be why I take things too personally all the time. So many times I tear up when someone makes a remark to a group I belong to, and even if I shouldn’t feel concerned I question myself and feel horrible. “I should’ve thought of it.”“I should’ve done it.”“I didn’t do good.” I hardly let myself fail as I haven’t failed much. So I pressure myself to keep my high average by being the most excellent. Yet I can hardly hold on anymore… It’s logical that I end up burned out. I overdid it and now I'm over it.
I am over with life.
At least that is what I think a lot but I’m working on it. I am trying to be done with being over-pessimistic. It’s not over for me, and if it’s not for you either, dear reader… Then,...
Let’s get over it together <3.
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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺
They say the truth will set you free, So why am I still here?
God If You Are Above by Falling In Reverse
F U C K B U L I M I A
Was dich nicht umbringt, wird dich langfristig zerstören'
I'm filled with feelings cause y'know.
FUCK
Image description: A drawing of a monster that's similar to a human except it's arms and torso are covered in lumps under it's skin, it's eyes are empty spirals and the back of its head is drawn out into a point. It's drawn with sketchy lines and has it's right hand on its heart and is looking to the left, showing you it's profile. Around it's leg and left arm it has bloody bandages. Around its chest a bandage is wrapped so tight it's bending the ribs inwards.
It's ears are long and pointy and it has a wide smiled.
Its fingers are sharp and its hands are big, its fingertips, joints and nose are all scribbled over with black. It's skin is white and on its right side it's got a shadow of red behind it.
In the second image is the monster accompanied with the text "I GOT OUT"
Mikeeeyyyy
Lets be 100% honest here...
Do y'all like Mike Wheeler??
And DEFINATELY NO HATE on Mike, hes a great character, but personally I think he can be a bit whiny and disrespectful at times.
Just sayin...
repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble
Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.
The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.
The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.
All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.
Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.
But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.
And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.
You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.
Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.
Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.
You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.
Being a girl is just staring at nothing and thinking about what an awful person you are, while doing nothing to change it
Ver la lluvia me pone a pensar si mis alegrías correrían rápido como la lluvia
Dejando fluir todo ,y disfrutando cada momento a su lado ..🌧
