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ใ€ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐—Ÿ๐—œ๐—ง๐—ง๐—˜๐—ฅ๐—•๐—ข๐—ซ / NSFW.

hey, do you come here often?

  • yes, too much

  • no, not enough

  • i will now


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โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž

heavy eyelids, hollow thoughts. passion dims beneath exhaustion's weight. every task feels mountainous. even joy feels distantโ€”like watching sunlight through frosted glass.
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โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
xx
โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
i dislike being undermined.






xx
โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
๏ผฅ๏ผธ๏ผจ๏ผก๏ผต๏ผณ๏ผด'''
...................................

burnout creeps in quietly, a thief stealing joy, focus, and drive. mornings grow heavier, motivation thinning like mist. small tasks overwhelm. creativity dries up. you ache, not just in body, but in spirit. laughter feels foreign. even rest doesn't restore. you're running, but the fuel ran out miles ago.

โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
x
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.
.
.
.
x

burnout drains you, bu
t being constantly und
ermined cuts deeper. it
chips away at your con
fidence, your worth.
together, they hollow
you out, leaving only
echoes where certainty
and passion once lived.​
x
.
.
.
.
x
๏ผฃ๏ผฒ๏ผฅ๏ผฅ๏ผฐ๏ผณ

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๏ผฉ๏ผฎ





x
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
๏ผก๏ผฎ๏ผค ๏ผด๏ผก๏ผซ๏ผฅ๏ผณ ๏ผฏ๏ผถ๏ผฅ๏ผฒ !

sleep is a gentle surrender, the softest esca
pe. in its quiet embrace, the world fadesโ€”
no demands, no thoughts, just stillness. it's
the closest we come to death without parti
ng, a weightless drift into nothingness whe
re peace blankets the mind. in sleep, we va
nish safely, and for a while, everything is be
autifully silent.​
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
 


โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
.xx๐๐‘๐Ž๐Œ๐ˆ๐’๐„ ๐ˆ'๐Œ ๐‚๐‡๐€๐๐†๐ˆ๐๐†
melancholy settles in like fog at duskโ€”soft, heavy, and everywhere. it isn't loud or dramatic; it doesn't beg to be noticed. instead, it lingers in the quiet spaces, in the in-betweens. "back to me" by the marรญas plays and suddenly the feeling sharpens, becomes palpable. the dreamy vocals, the slow grooveโ€”it's like swimming through a memory you didn't know you missed. there's a sweetness in the sadness, a longing wrapped in silk.

you find yourself thinking of moments that never fully belonged to you, glances that lingered too long, goodbyes that didn't echo loud enough. the song pulls threads of old feelings loose, unraveling them slowly, gently. you don't resist. instead, you sit with it, let the melancholy make a home in your ribs for a while. it's not despair. it's something quieter, more familiarโ€”like a favorite sweater worn thin at the elbows. it aches, but softly. it reminds you that even the most beautiful things can leave a shadow behind when they're gone.

and in that shadow, you find something strangely comforting: the ache itself means it mattered.​
xx
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โ— โ— โ— โ— .. โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
x.x๐๐€๐‚๐Š ๐…๐‘๐Ž๐Œ ๐“๐‡๐„ ๐ƒ๐€๐‘๐Š. ๐๐”๐“ ๐ˆ๐… ๐ˆ ๐–๐Ž๐”๐‹๐ƒ ๐’๐„๐„
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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do things loop xxxxxxxxor am ixx'xxxxxx losing my xxxxx'xxxabsolutexxxxxxxx mind ?
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”


lately, i've been carrying that same quiet melancholy with me, like a song stuck in the back of my mind. it
comes in wavesโ€”unexpected, but never completely unfamiliar. i'll be going about my day, and suddenly
everything feels a little distant, a little slower, like i'm watching myself through a window. i think it's
the little things that stir it up: a phrase in a conversation, a scent i hadn't noticed in years, or hearing
"back to me" when i'm already feeling tender. it's not overwhelming, just a soft acheโ€”a reminder
that something inside me is still quietly reaching back.​


๐ข'๐ ๐Ÿ๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐š๐ฉ๐š๐ซ๐ญ. ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ก๐ž ๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐š๐ง๐ญ? ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ก๐ž ๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ง๐ž๐ž๐?
..
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ

๐˜๐Ž๐” ! ! !
๐˜๐Ž๐” ! ! !
๐˜๐Ž๐” ! ! !

โ”โ”โ”โ”
๐–ฒ๐–ฎ๐–ญ๐–ฆ xback to me
๐–ข๐–ฑ๐–ค๐–ฃ๐–จ๐–ณxthe marias​
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
 
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xx
x.
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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
lately, i've been piningโ€”quietly, achingly, like a pain that never
resolves. it's a yearning that sits just beneath the surface of my
skin, a hum that never stops. i catch myself staring at ceilings, at
walls, at nothing in particular, imagining someone's arms around
me. i want to be heldโ€”not just touched, but gathered. like some
one sees the ache in me and chooses to soothe it with presence
alone. i want a kiss that says, i know who you are and i'm not
afraid of it.
a kiss that lingers, that presses into me like it's trying
to memorize every detail. the kind that makes time slow down.
there's this need in me, tender and sharp, to be seen and adored
โ€”just for existing, for breathing. i think about it constantly:
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
fingers in my hair, a thumb on my cheek, someone whispering
that i'm enough. not because i've earned it, but because i am.
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€​
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ


















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โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
and until that moment comes, i sit with this ache, this
hope. i pine like the treesโ€”still and steady, always reach
ing upward, waiting for warmth to find me. some days,
the loneliness feels almost sacred. it's a space where i
meet myself completely. i wrap blankets around my
shoulders like they're arms, let daydreams drift over me
like soft tides. i replay old words, invent new ones, imag
ining how they'd sound in a lover's voice. maybe pining
is proof i still believe in something gentle, something
real. that even in this emptiness, i haven't given up on
being touched in a way that heals. i carry that hope like
a flickering flame, cupped in both hands, whispering:
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
please see me. please stay.
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€​
xxdx
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xx
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xx

โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
a stranger things moodboard because i'm trying to feed my muse with inspo.

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”


last time i did this, i put a bunch of songs along with it, but i'm too lazy to do that. anyway, i might make a moodboard of my stranger things OC. she is so near and dear to my heart at this point.

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”

nonetheless, if you are reading this and feel the urge to do a stranger things roleplay, please message me. heh... the setting is so much fun to play around with. as well as the monsters/creatures.
 


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โ”
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”ƒ
โ”โ”โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ”โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ”
xxxx.
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๏ผฌ๏ผฅ๏ผด๏ผ‡๏ผณ ๏ผด๏ผก๏ผฌ๏ผซ ๏ผข๏ผฏ๏ผต๏ผฎ๏ผค๏ผก๏ผฒ๏ผฉ๏ผฅ๏ผณ
โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ”
i've had this in my about me section on this site, but i feel as
though i should expand on it a little more. please do not call
me certain names like: kiddo, bb/baby, cutie, or sweetie. i'm
respectfully an adult, and those names are super cringey to
me. please treat me as one. i can't think of any other ones,
but if i'm uncomfortable, i will let you know.
โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ” โ”
xx
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xx
i want to preface this with a: if you use these nicknames on
othersโ€” there's no hate towards you. i just personally don't
want to be referred to as one of these pet names. it makes
my skin crawl in the worst way possible. once again, we are
ALL adults (at least i hope so, fuck LOL). i feel strange as an
adult being referred to as 'bb'. maybe it's an autistic thing...
it genuinely elicits such a strong and physical reaction from
myself. i dunno, man. you do you, but please don't call me
any of those things/names.
or i will explode into melting hot cheese. more or less.​

๏ผฐ๏ผฌ๏ผฅ๏ผก๏ผณ๏ผฅ ๏ผก๏ผฎ๏ผค ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผก๏ผฎ๏ผซ ๏ผน๏ผฏ๏ผต !

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxx๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฅใ€€๐’ฑ ใ€€๏ผฆ๏ผก๏ผญ๏ผฉ๏ผฌ๏ผนใ€€ ๏ผต๏ผฐ๏ผค๏ผก๏ผด๏ผฅใ€€ !
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€



โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€ โ”€

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๐•๐€๐‹๐„๐๐“๐ˆ๐๐„
๐•๐„๐๐”๐’ & ๐•๐„๐‹๐Œ๐€
๐•๐ˆ๐ƒ๐€๐‹๐ˆ๐€ !
โ”€ โ”€โ”€ โ”€โ”€โ”€
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
xxx
iyNLmyd.gif
at the beginning of this year, i had no idea how much my life would changeโ€”for the better. it all
started in february, when i brought home valentine, my sweet guinea pig. funny enough, i was
supposed to get a hamster. that was the plan. but something shifted along the wayโ€”maybe it
was instinct, maybe it was fateโ€”but i was gently convinced to choose a guinea pig instead. and
that decision turned out to be one of the best i've ever made.

valentine changed everything. from the very first moment i held her, i felt something click into
placeโ€”like this was exactly what i was meant to do. she's more than just a pet; she's a little soul
that brought so much warmth and calm into my life. taking care of her gave me a sense of purpose
and routine, but more importantly, it opened my heart in ways i hadn't expected.

fast forward to may, and i'm not just a guinea pig ownerโ€”i'm someone who rescues and rehomes
them. that transformation still amazes me. it wasn't a conscious goal i set back in february, but as
time went on, i realized just how many little lives out there needed someone to advocate for them,
to love them, and to give them a second chance. i became that someone.

this wednesday, i'll be rehoming a guinea pig named velma. she's special, like they all are. each one
has a story, a personality, a sparkโ€”and i get to help them find the safe, loving homes they deserve.
rehoming isn't always easy. it takes time, care, and emotional energy. but when i think about the
impact it makes, it's all worth it.

i'm proud of myselfโ€”truly proud. not just for the actions i've taken, but for the heart i've shown. it's
easy to walk past problems that don't affect you directly. it's easy to say, "someone else will help."
but i didn't do that. i stepped up. i listened to that quiet, persistent voice that said, "you can do more."
and i did.

this year has taken a turn for the best because i found something meaningful to pour myself into. i
found love in unexpected placesโ€”in the tiny squeaks of a guinea pig, in the quiet moments of con-
nection, in the trust slowly built over time. i found strength, too. strength in being soft, in caring
deeply, in showing up when it would've been easier not to.

i don't know where the rest of this year will take me, but i know i'll keep doing what i can. i'll keep
rescuing, rehoming, loving. i'll keep being proud of myself, because i've earned that pride.

and it all started with valentine.​
 
โ”Œxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxโ”
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โ””xxxxxxxxxxxxx โ— xxxxxxxxxxxxxโ”˜
 




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โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
Inspired by a current roleplay I have going with @Illicit Inqiuiry . Based on the smut starter, "I hate how much I need you."

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”

Benjamin Carter and Madison Waller can't stand each other.
She's sharp-tongued and calculatedโ€”the kind of girl who lives in the library and always has the last word. He's the cocky, beer-in-hand frat guy who never takes anything seriously. They've clashed from the moment they met, their dynamic fueled by biting sarcasm and unresolved tension.
So when they both end up at the same house partyโ€”thanks to a mutual friendโ€”neither is thrilled. Madison doesn't even do parties, but for once, she just needed a break. And of course, the universe decides to throw Benjamin Carter right into her path.
Another argument. Another battle of wills. But this timeโ€ฆ something shifts.
One heated exchange becomes something else entirely. Before they know it, they're upstairs, alone, with too much to prove and too little patience.
It was never supposed to go this far.
Now the question is no longer who winsโ€” It's why can't they stop? And what the hell are they really trying to prove?​
 
[ ยท ] NSFW New


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โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ
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๏ผฉ๏ผด๏ผ‡๏ผณ ๏ผฅ๏ผก๏ผฒ๏ผฌ๏ผน ๏ผฉ๏ผฎ ๏ผด๏ผจ๏ผฅ โž โŠฑ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ โ‹ฏโ‹ฏ โ”€
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I have been so. . . pent up lately. I have
no idea if it has to do with the weather
or what. I have an itch that needs to be
scratched. This summer heat does NOT
help either. Eugh, I need it to be winter
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๐™ผ๐™พ๐š๐™ฝ๐™ธ๐™ฝ'. ๐™ธ ๐™บ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š† ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ฐ๐šƒ ๐šˆ๐™พ๐š„๐š ๐™ป๐™พ๐š…๐™ด
๐˜‰๐˜ˆ๐˜‰๐˜  ๐˜๐˜š ๐˜ˆ ๐˜”๐˜ ๐˜š๐˜›๐˜Œ๐˜™๐˜  !


โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

๐Œ๐Ž๐‘๐๐ˆ๐๐† ๐’๐„๐—xxโ˜€๏ธŽ
โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
 


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โ•โ• โ•
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ”‚
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โ–ˆโ–ˆx.
โ–ˆโ–ˆx.
โ–ˆโ–ˆ.x
โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž โ€Ž
Lately, the undercurrent at home has felt like a shifting tideโ€”equal parts exhaustion and inevitability. With June's approach comes a sense of mounting chaos: my brother's graduation, my mother's long journey here, and the quiet dread that their strained dynamic will overshadow his moment of celebration. I can't help but feel a twinge of guiltโ€”he deserves a time of joy, not the burden of our collective weariness. And beneath it all, I carry a hope that this too shall passโ€”that the air will clear, the tension will ease, and I'll finally shed this cold that's been clinging to me like a reminder of everything that's been brewing.​
 
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