ʍɨɖռɨɢɦȶ ʟɨʟʏ
@st0nepetals.bsky.social
950 followers 600 following 1.7K posts
Chaos in a cute wrapper ✨ Finding strength in the struggle ✨Healing out loud ✨Grateful for each day ✨ Survivor 💞
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A mid-life crisis, but it’s all about reading books and learning to make different styles of homemade pizza.
Seems there is plenty of suffering, conflict and confusion and not nearly enough compassion.
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Idk if I’m cut out for this. I get bothered by how much I get blocked and I try to stay happy and people are just mean for no reason.
Congratulations on (almost) three years ✨
My nipples used to be elite-level cold weather detectors. Cancer took 'em. Now I just guess and bring a sweater like a chump.
To be clear, I wasn’t much of a drinker….one or two beers or glasses of wine a week, if that. And ever since the head injury it no longer tasted right or good and so I stopped altogether.
Ten months no alcohol and I thought for sure I’d feel better than this.
Ten months no alcohol and I thought for sure I’d feel better than this.
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Heavy on the “you never know what someone’s going through” so be kind
Reposted by ʍɨɖռɨɢɦȶ ʟɨʟʏ
Been spreadsheeting for days. Sometimes you just need to wriiiiite you know?
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outsourcing all my thoughts
to weirdos on the internet
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Friendships, but they run on an algorithm and come and go depending on post popularity and drama quotient
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Randomly waking up to the Amtrak in the distance, wishing I were on it.
Watching the Raiders game in Spanish on CBS. I don’t speak Spanish, but the universal language of chaos, penalties, and blown coverages? Crystal clear. 🏴‍☠️
Reposted by ʍɨɖռɨɢɦȶ ʟɨʟʏ
excuse me while I slip into something a little more comfortable.

–me, changing from my morning pajamas into my afternoon pajamas.
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Sometimes I really wonder why I even still go on, but as long as it pisses some people off that I do, then I'll keep going out of spite if nothing else... 🐼😣😣
Reposted by ʍɨɖռɨɢɦȶ ʟɨʟʏ
when i was a child
i dreamt i was a bird
the soul needs no
approval or mirror
it always knows
what it is
I see with clarity how
he discarded you to build himself softer in the telling,
and I was too eager
to swallow the fiction
where he played the victim
and you played the wound.

But you were never the problem.
you were the evidence
you were the truth
and I, far too late,
am learning how to read it.
Forgive me
for lending my empathy
to the architect of your undoing
for thinking love
was a prize he gave
rather than a thing he withheld
to watch us crawl toward it.
You were not storms;
you were barometers
of the pressure building
in his quiet manipulations
you were not cages;
you were the canaries,
and I ignored your warning songs
in favor of his polished lies
You, who were named bitter
needy
crazy
too much
not enough
He painted you
in bruises of words
and I, blind in my own hunger
for meaning, believed him

How fucking dare I.

I took his side
not just in story
but in spirit
willing to see you
as cautionary tales
instead of survivors