Polkadot

Fungus isn't nice

Crying cuz I need my eyes to be hydrated or smth

Tea*

it's going to be a wild, sweaty, sleep-deprived ride to academic glory.

For me, warning signs are just invitations, red flags fluttering like welcome banners at a parade of impending doom. Caution tape? A charming garland. A growling dog? Just a misunderstood cuddle monster. My danger radar is permanently broken, stuck on "optimistic," mistaking blatant threats for quirky personality traits. So, yeah, if you see me running headfirst into a dumpster fire with a smile on my face, just know I'm probably interpreting the flames as a warm embrace from the universe. Send a therapist or some marshmallows

When did the vibrant pulse of your heart still into cold, unyielding stone? Was it a gradual petrification, a slow erosion of warmth, or a sudden cataclysm?

If I can not be the balm that soothes your deepest wounds, nor the very air you need to breathe again, then what am I but a beautiful failure? A shimmering mirage in the desert of your pain, promising respite but offering only more emptiness. I long to be the sun that melts the ice around your heart, the gentle rain that nourishes your parched soul, but I am only a shadow, a pale imitation of the healing you deserve. My love, it seems, is not enough. My presence is a constant reminder of what you lack of what I can not give. I am a flawed remedy, a well-intentioned poison, and I fear that in my desperate attempt to mend you, I am only breaking you further. I fear I'm the cold wind you hide from . I fear I'm the wound you try to hide behind your sleeve.

I told you not to fall for me if I can't give you the love you deserve

Were you underfed, starved of the very nourishment a soul requires? Is that why you cling to affection like a lifeline, your grip tightening with each passing moment, terrified of being abandoned to the emptiness once more? Do you scour my face for validation, your a eyes reflecting a bottomless hunger I can never seem to satisfy? The fear is palpable, a silent tremor that runs through you whenever I turn away,briefly almost. I try to offer sustenance, but my meager offerings seem to vanish into a vast, echoing void, leaving you perpetually famished, perpetually yearning for something I cannot provide. I fear I'm only feeding what have been lost long ago to the pangs of deprivation.

Were you underfed as a child?

Obsession or nothing!!!

‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ Interesting that nobody chose I hate love 😭