Polkadot

I'm this little silly thing rotting under the couch

I should've said yes to alcohol yesterday tf (drinks water)

i hate it whenever i have to admit i need something from someone, especially if it's attention. i feel like it's too much to ask for. i think everything is too much to ask for, actually, knowing full well that if someone i care about asked something, even indirectly, from me, i would move mountains to give it to them. maybe i'm just afraid of no one caring about me enough to do even the smallest thing for me, hmmm? maybe so afraid of the answer, i don't even wanna find out about it.

My mind drifts like a leaf on a still pond, gently bobbing in the warm sun of monotony. The clock ticks with a lazy rhythm, each second stretching like a cat in the afternoon sun, while I contemplate the existential weight of dust settling on my bookshelf. The TV hums softly, a distant murmur that feels more like a lullaby than entertainment, and I wonder if the couch is slowly absorbing my essence. My fingers trace invisible patterns on my thigh, creating masterpieces of nothingness I could read a book, but the pages seem to whisper, “Not today.” A snack beckons from the kitchen, yet the journey feels like an epic quest requiring far too much energy. Match my yearning for whatever it is

I collect these almost-moments like rare stamps: the almost-a-hug, the almost-a-compliment, the almost-a-connection. My scrapbook of near misses is overflowing, a testament to my exquisite talent for arriving just slightly too late, saying just slightly the wrong thing, being just slightly too… me. It's an impressive collection, really, a museum of missed opportunities curated with a dedication bordering on masochism.

I stink of the past. I sniff the air as a dog who lost its owner, n I search for something that I will never find

there are things that only certain people will understand, things that if you share with other people they won’t get it, like it’s a secret language or some code.

i love when tragedies are like “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”

I call her lady tears...

When they urge me to smile but I flash my sharp teeth by mistake.

So, I asked Mom for advice on being played, and she just shrugged and said, "It's a game, right? So play along! What's a game without a rematch?" I swear, my mother's life philosophy is basically "turn the other cheek… then sucker punch them when they least expect it." This isn't advice; this is a call to arms. It's basically Mom's way of saying, "Honey, if someone wants to play games, you grab a controller and have fun nuking everything with a face" I think she's picturing me in a Mortal Kombat tournament of the heart, dishing out Fatalities of emotional retribution. She's also completely missing the point that I'm not trying to win a game; I'm trying not to get turned into a human chess piece. But hey, at least I know where I get my competitive streak.Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go sharpen my wit and plot my comeback.

You do not know how fast you have been running, how hard you have been working, how truly exhausted you are, until someone stands behind you and says, “It’s OK, you can fall down now. I’ll catch you.” but you have severe trust issues

sorry i cant hang out i forgot how to mimic human like behaviour

‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ Mutual obsession or nothing

you can't immediately unlove what you loved unless you never loved it to begin with

ገሊላ being ገሊላ

'i remember when I lost my mind !it wa-' HOW CAN YOU REMEMBER it if u lost ur mind ?howww?

Reminded me of someone.