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pi didnt let me post the first one

i can’t listen to music without thinking about her. every piece of shitty poetry that condemns my for you page makes me think of her in our living room. she is holding bills as she sits on our couch, a calculator on the table and a glass in the other hand. i will ask her what she wants for dinner, and she will tell me. there’s something so guttural about knowing you want to love someone for the rest of your life. that little moments like a dinner order are exactly what will give you the drive to wake up and slave away to a 9 to 5. ive been thinking about what i wanna be a lot lately. i think it’s honestly teaching. philosophy. i like to imagine myself as a philosophy professor discussing love with my students, i would tell them about my little artist at home and our baby girl and how i too thought marriage was simply the removal of autonomy until it befell my door. i think that’s a normal way to feel, with tubes of “the good ol ball and chain” and “can’t live with her can’t live without her“ down our throats like prospective foie gras. but my love is gentle. it is patient. it is kind.

@22

Mar 16, 2025

🎭

heyy

and i made a song about you but it’s also about me and no one will ever hear it its called my thoughts and its not actually a song but the way music flies out of your mouth makes me want to say sweet nothings as i put my words with yours like a torn up half read book you keep by your bedside table that you tell yourself you’ll get around to. i play fast and loose with my actions around you, and maybe it’s too much even for me. i try to distract with overconsumption of digital content thst just fucking overwhelmes me and gets in the way of anything getting done. you’ll never read this by the way. but can i recite the pages of senseless amateur poetry i wrote about you? i never really belong anywhere, and i camouflage into a current residence until i trick myself into thinking i truly know the people i’m around. it happened once, the effect that is. im not there anymore, and i hope those people don’t hate me like i hate myself for leaving. this isn’t about you, just me rehashing horrible guy-wrenching emotions of a past (if you can even call two years ago the past), and things i don’t talk about. im the most observant person ever, and you wouldn’t expect it. i’m so sensitive, i pick up every little movement someone does and i overthink everything thst happens before and after a conversation, guilt racks me after any social gathering and i wonder if i said anything wrong. but there’s so much to be grateful for life is so so beautiful im so lucky to be alive and have this device that i’m emotionally giving myself to and have given my life to. i love love, life, and people and i already made a long post about this im not reiterating. and i love how i can see you everyday and stand on the sidelines as your hype man in your game of love, ill hold the water bottle of my unrequited longing, ready to serve drops of my musings of you only to accidentally pour myself onto you.

@huxsid

Mar 26, 2025

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on numbness

you know what i find really interesting? that i’ve never not started a big little post like this without the words “you know what i find really interesting”? anyone who has ever met me has been a victim of this same quote, with no fault of their own, i am but a broken record “the entirety of your life is either waiting for the really good things or the really bad things” (my father) you know what i find really interesting? numbness. not it’s presence , not its absence, rather the fact it exists at all. i am moved by the fact i can be moved i often wonder if i have felt the entirety of emotions possible my disposal have i ever really been in love? can i look upon you with tears in your eyes and say, definitively, i know how you feel? is your happiness mine? do you understand my desires as i understand yours? i am but words on a screen and pixels that stand before you in their own right, words that are not contingent on your comprehension yet secretly hope and pray they do not fall on deaf ears. i do not need your validation, but i want it. tell me i am beautiful, or smart, or that the funny words i use are any different than another teenage girls, tell me you know too what it is like to be numb, and sad, and happy, and hungry. why do we write? why do we express? to remind you that i too am human, grappling with my own mortality every day? am i writing for you?

@22

Feb 11, 2025

Top Recs from @22

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Born to be terrified

I've been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 AM than I do in an entire day, but if I wake at 6:59 AM and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine, I will have done enough and killed no one in the process. - 6:59 AM by Shane Koyczan we take love for granted, and i do more than anyone. i find it so beautiful that there is one pair of flesh and bones and eyes and a mouth that truly do belong at the top of the hierarchy. she is perfection and love in itself, and i remind myself that to be stagnant to unproductive may never be my fate if my day is long spent loving her.

@22

Feb 11, 2025

😃

i wake to another morning

as i promised -

@22

Feb 13, 2025

🎙

the world is over

i forgot my headphones at home. i was about to either 1) pump black country new road 2) watch brooklyn 99. i miss being passionate about things, not being able to sleep, eat, speak, or fathom anything beyond the apple of my eye and the fruit of my thoughts. i miss waking up with one thing in mind, how i would explore it that day, and how i would explore it the next it’s been people it’s been sewing guitar driving religion philosophy photography writing filming blogging i think, regardless of any tik tok data explosion with the intention of ripping out each of my brain cells to keep me submissive and docile because of a wrecked attention span, i’m not a girl of her commitments- i get bored. and i am bored. i feel this lack of passion so deeply in my body, its been a catalyst for the recent crashouts ive had ( and there’s been plenty) i don’t know how to stay, and work hard, and allow myself to grow to what i want to be right in this instance. not to shine my own shoes, but i’m not super used to being bad at things. i’ve always always always coasted, and now that im trying to be a gaf (give a fuck) filled girl, ive realized, sucking at something hurts a lot more when you’ve put in the work to be good at it. if it wasn’t me writing this, and my best friend called me and told me this word for word, i would tell her how normal that feeling was, and that she herself knew what to do; commit. and that is my advice, dear sweet amalia, commit, commit, commit.

@22

Feb 18, 2025