Polkadot

— beautiful boy, 2018,

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.  Shakespeare The Merchant of Venice Act 3 Scene 1

Daily dose of why nobody be leavin' the channel yet.... And i saw one of the subs i was stalking in my dream tf

Yh. They are out of sale here

Where do you even find people.

Is it good or bad? Read or not read?

Behold the only setting i have since the age of coming to birth

Do you know what would actually heal me afamily sleep over. Yes, a FAMILY SLEEPOVER. It's weird, how close and far we seem sometimes. Like we're speaking different languages, living in different realities, connected only by the faint threads of shared DNA, childhood memories, and parenthood. It's not just the laughter,the gossip,the bad snacks, the late night conversation, or the lame movies,but the permission to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, to be loved unconditionally, even when we're at our most embarrassing, most flawed, most utterly human. Okay, i confess i want 24hr max lockdown.

Adults,aka parents are such a weird creatures. I hope we get to become like them one day

Did you tell your baby im your baby? If not haram aleykum

The phrase "You have time" is inherently deceptive. Time, after all, is not something that we possess. It's not a resource to be hoarded or spent. Instead, it's the very medium in which we exist, the canvas upon which we paint our lives. To say "you have time" is like saying "you have air." It's a statement of fact, but it doesn't capture the essence of the experience. The reality is that you are in time, constantly flowing through it, and the question isn't whether you have it, but what you do with it. Does it make sense? Dad: No

Glasschildproblemchildgoldenchildscapegoatmascot

It's exciting when you find parts of yourself in someone else.

Freedom is just a lengthy rope. The voices: Hang yourself with it

Is it Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Or is time just a human construct, a linear illusion designed to make us feel like we're progressing towards something when, in reality, we're all just spinning in circles on a giant hamster wheel?

I mean, names are already ludicrous. They're arbitrary sounds we assign to wriggling, screaming blobs of potential, hoping to somehow contain their infinite selves within five to ten letters. But Polka? My name is Polka! It's practically a comedic masterpiece already. It's inherently joyful, irrepressibly upbeat. It demands respect! And by misspelling it—they rendered it 'Palka', a barbaric mutilation that suggests a Slavic villain in a low-budget spy film.