unsolicited dicks vs shitting bricks

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lately, guys keep asking if i want to see their dicks. like, why would i want to see some strange dick that's not actively in the process of giving me enjoyment? hard pass. tbh i'd rather wank. or just like… anything. deal with my brickshits from porphyria constipation, maybe?




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diarrhea musings

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ever have diarrhea so bad that you had to hold your ass cheeks together? i havent but i just heard someone on naked and afraid say it after eating some bad food but wouldnt just sealing your cheeks shut compound matters… that does nothing for your sphincty… so wouldnt you just end up shitting through your squeezed cheeks and squeezing hands... welp im not even going to be mad at it… too mentally exhausting.
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corpse lore!: scary mary and the monster she made

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💜⭐️ once upon a time, there was this adorable goth queen. her name was mary. ⭐️💜 her full name was mary wallstonecraft godwin, a fun and fancy-free 18yo bad bitch. she loved to party and had a creative mind. one day she stuck w her extra-ass bf, percy bysshe shelley, whom my friends and i always liked to call percy fishjelly behind his back, cuz he stunted the wizard hat and his ween hygiene game was decidedly not on pernt. but our friend mary for some dumb reason, always saw something more in percy, idk! k so anyway our girl mary’s stepsis, claire claremont, wants to go to visit lord byron at his house so she can extend an invitation to her bone zone (noooo capppp claire legit wanted to fuuuuuck him!!). it was the year without a summer, thanks to some nearby volcano that took a massive, explosive shit. can’t even wear cute shorts - just drip instead w pure depresh and the lingering stench of eggy sulfur. soooooo they roll up to lake geneva because claire wants some lordy b pork swor...
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authenticity isn’t always cute. we aren't always cute.

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  for some people, authenticity is big and loud and obvious. for others, it’s quieter — almost secret. mine shifts depending on the day. it’s rarely tidy. for me, being real means doing an internal inventory. like scanning the storage chests in my minecraft base — what do i actually have? what parts of me are usable today? what’s been gathering dust? i work with what’s there. not the highlight reel. the scraps, the wonky bits, the stuff i wish i could trade in — that’s part of it too. there are days when authenticity looks like soft clothes, canceled plans, and sitting with a feeling before deciding what it even is. there are days when it looks like stillness, not statements. it’s not curated. it’s not crafted for approval. it’s just all of me showing up — even the odd, inconvenient, hard-to-summarize parts. and that realness in its shifting, glitchy form is the thing that reminds me i’m not pretending to be here... i actually am here.
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Silence Is Healing

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In the noise of the everyday, I can lose touch with my true self, my inherent worth, and my ability to discern what truly benefits me. And I suspect many of you reading this understand. As a highly sensitive person, I know I'm not alone. It's not just physical distractions. The endless scroll of social media, societal pressures, and the carefully curated perfection of others' lives create a deafening cacophony that drowns out our true selves. Everywhere we turn, negativity vies for our attention. We overthink, exhausting ourselves in the process. It feels like a war against our self-esteem, our hearts, and that fragile reserve of positivity we all try to nurture. The constant pressure to keep up, the illusion of perfect lives… noise and drama. It suffocates our true selves, and I understand if you feel the same overwhelming sense of being lost in the noise.  This constant chaos and negativity are unacceptable. We deserve better. The solution? Choosing silence. Finding p...
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