Related Recs

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More snails!!!

Ohhhhhh I love snails why can't I add more than one snail pic I'm gonna comment the other really good one I got today

@krmt

Feb 18, 2025

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This baby snail on my patio

Go forth little fella

@gaucheries

Mar 1, 2025

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More slugs

I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry (fyi these ones are invasive! but they’re cute lil aliens nonetheless!)

@beansilbob

Sep 10, 2024

Top Recs from @winston

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I fucking love old internet vibes

AAAHHHH I'm learning CSS and HTML to design my own webpage (I'm also using sites like Caard and StrawPage) because I am obsessive with customization and journaling. I have a crippling Instagram addiction but I hate the app. This app seems more my style 👀

@winston

Feb 8, 2025

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Makeup for fun

I've never touched makeup before but I have this eye pencil thing and decided to doodle on myself. I like it.

@winston

Mar 14, 2025

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Moving on

I've deleted Instagram. I'm stretching my ears. I'm making video diaries again. I write for myself only. I'm secluded, quiet, I'm grieving, I'm burying myself and I am being buried and I am attending the funeral. I'm alone in all of this. It wasn't a new year resolution that led me here. It wasn't therapy or a fortune cookie or anything romantic. But I realize your story only matters if you plan on telling it to someone. Maybe as a response to something, "what the fuck is wrong with you?", maybe an intimate secret, maybe a drunken ramble. I'm done telling stories. I've been alone for forever. Occasionally someone will drift too close, and I think maybe this time, maybe, maybe... And I'm left scarred, or left quietly, but always left. Of course I have things to reflect on and things to take accountability for. But I'll be damned if I present my isolation as pure, as if I am a martyr. No, this is not for everyone's safety or my own digestibility. I am bringing the chisel down in sharp downward motions against myself again and again and and I will carve something new from this stone tomb. I'll never be David. I'll never be Michelangelo. But I can be something more than stone. I am moving on. I don't know to where or to what end. It doesn't matter. Very little does, now. Maybe it always had such little meaning and I was just too close, to desperate, to see that. I wanted so badly to mean something. Even if it was just to be grieved. No one will miss me, now, as it's always been. But I also don't miss me. Moving on.

@winston

Mar 26, 2025