Polkadot
Kanalga Telegram’da o‘tish
310
Obunachilar
Ma'lumot yo'q24 soatlar
-47 kun
-630 kun
Postlar arxiv
310
Oh, darling, isn't it just the most charming little quirk? The moment a man's lips part, whether it's for a "Good morning" or a declaration of undying devotion, there's this tiny, exquisitely refined voice in my head that just... screams 'Liar.'
It's not even an accusation, really. More of a preemptive, affectionate interjection. Like my soul's built-in, perpetually caffeinated lie-detector is doing the Macarena, even before the last syllable leaves his pretty little mouth. It's like a sixth sense, but for impending fibs about 'being busy' or 'just grabbing one drink.' A survival mechanism, perhaps, honed over generations of navigating the delightful complexities of male communication.
And honestly, sometimes I just want to cup my hands around my mouth and bellow it across the room. Just a crisp, clear 'LIAR!' echoing in the hallowed halls of his barely-formed sentences. Not out of malice, you understand. It's on bases of consistent artistry of it all. It's almost cute, how utterly predictable they can be. Almost.
310
Repost from Unresolved Issues
being vulnerable is embarrassing. being seen is embarrassing. wanting is embarrassing.
310
Repost from Unresolved Issues
I wish I could call everyone babygirl but some of y'all would be offended.
310
I doubt the quill can even handle the absurdity, don't think the paper can understand the irony, you would laugh and call me sentimental so, I will no longer make a fool of myself. I will ask when this will end but it has passed years ago it's just me stuck in man-made cage
310
only in the metaphysical sense, where nothing truly matters and yet I still overthink everything.
310
I do care inside. It’s just heavily guarded by sarcasm and snacks.Deep down. Like, really deep. Might need a shovel.
310
the home I miss isn’t a place? It’s a time when my life made sense. When things made sense.
