there was a time you were my best friend. you sat for hours reading me bedtime stories. you played dolls with me. i thought that was forever. i thought that was love. but now you’re here and not here. alive, breathing, but gone. and it hurts in a way i can’t explain. not a burn. not a sting. it’s rot. it’s emptiness. it’s you looking at me like i’m too much. every fight ends the same. me feeling worthless. me drowning in guilt. you yelling that i cry for no reason. but god i wish you would just hold me. just once. instead of tearing me apart for feeling at all. i watch you love them. the little ones. you comfort them. you protect them. and i’m just— the oldest. the forgotten. the one who’s supposed to be strong. so i swallow pills. i hold glass until my hands shake. i carve red lines into my skin because at least the blood listens. at least the blood proves i exist. because you don’t see me. you never see me. i tell myself i don’t need you. but already gone.

The Poison You Left in Me You made me, then made me wish I wasn’t. You call me broken, but it was your hands that snapped me. You call me loud, but it was your silence that strangled me. I’m not your burden— I’m your reflection, the monster you built, the shadow of your cruelty. Every scar on me carries your name, not written in ink but seared in fire. You didn’t raise me— you caged me. You gave me breath only to watch me choke on it. I don’t hate myself, I hate the echo of you inside me, a venom that pulses through my veins every time I hear your voice. You call me lost, but you’re the map I’m running from, a compass that only points to pain. And if I am ruined, if I am reckless, if I am everything you spit at me— it’s because you carved those words into my skin long before I could speak. Mother, you are not the reason I live. You are the reason I dream of leaving

My first personal blog on anime, Always wanted to try blogging so here I am.... any Otaku fans reach out!! Say hello!

CozyCon this year in 2025 seemed like a blast until it wasn't. A verified report from a member on discord made a shocking statement about the con.

Most of the pictures in this post are wip. The girl in the pink dress the cat with wings, and the guy with the skull mask are NOT for sale. Prices vary. I can do pretty much anything, no nasty stuff.

A love shaped by pain, drawn to darkness as if it were familiar—where trauma whispers and hearts chase what hurts

A collection of thoughts, memories, and moments captured in the calm between waves and hoofbeats. This stream reflects on solitude, nature, and inner peace much like a quiet ride by the sea. Perfect for notes on mindfulness, creative inspiration, or simply slowing down.

"Dumbfounded by the absolution of a repetitive destruction of all that I contact. Far from the midas touch with no gold for me, instead I'm left with ashes and a wish. Regret formed behind a mask of past mistakes, generational poverty and curses which are rarely escaped. So there I lay, homeless and full of self hate while drowning in its waste. I know the way to freedom but the drugs won't let me when the high make all the exits seem fake"

Was it any given day that made a sermon turn to each kindred soul and speak? It can be that dawn cracks the ages. On occasion, and at most, dawn is plain and dawn completes a new day. To hell, the nay sayers say. But who spawned first, the drug or the addict?

When you dig deep like struggle or keep with self as close as a teat is to a newborn’s tongue, there will be no air left to breathe.

It’s on the quiet nights where I lay in bed alone that I notice just how petrifyingly alone I feel. Where I’m alone with my thoughts. Where I can hear everything, yet I hear nothing but the raging sound of my thoughts, screaming whispers into the night.

She doesn’t rest when the sun shines, and the days don’t count her out. One day, one evening, on no particular month, as she was parking her car..she saw a son in the night sky.

I watched Zora’s teal and pink hair sway as she painted the wall with bold strokes. The neon glow fueled her fearless spirit, igniting a thrill within me.

To wonder in the fields, because trying again feels like we might make it this time. And quite there is no destination, however. And yet there are sown touching wonderment in all pathways.

This is something I wrote about the complexities of death and the afterlife, I struggle to cope with loss, it's quite confusing, this is one of likely many poems that i will write about my pain and confusion surrounding death and loss

This includes mentions of SH, Blades, and Blood please do not read if you are easily triggered by these things!! You are warned!

I’m better without you, I know it. But with having a maker, I can’t show it. You can’t fold it, and I can’t touch it. It’s feverishly driven you mad that another man may dethrone you, before the clock ends. And I’m just wild for believing it.

Amidst a world eternally fixated on achieving something close to immaculate, this work examines the opportunity lying within actually being imperfect – the harsh truths and the beauty that flows from the more rigid areas of life. This is a vivid reflection on the importance of our battles, the reason compassionate tales must be expressed, and how Ink & Iron serves precisely that purpose.

In a world that constantly pushes us toward achievement and action, we often forget to pause and ask one of the most powerful questions: Why? Knowing “the why” behind what you do—your actions, goals, and beliefs—is more than just helpful. It’s transformational. This guide will walk you through the concept of “the why,” why it matters, and how to find and live by yours.

What is DIY? DIY, is an abbreviation for "Do It Yourself," also referring to the practice of undertaking projects or repairs oneself, rather than hiring a professional to do it. It encompasses a wide range of activities, and creativity, from simple home repairs to complex constructions or even creative endeavors of art. Here are a few things to get started on: