SOBS DOVEWING 9 PLEASE,,,

SOBS DOVEWING 9 PLEASE,,,

I knew that look, dear, eyes always seeking Was there in someone that dug long ago So I will not ask you why you were creeping In some sad way, I already know

So I will not ask you where you came from I would not ask and neither would you Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

retro

My friend showed me this art program that has a lot of cool realistic physics with oil paint and watercolors and pastels and a bunch of simulated traditional stuff---oh and it's also $10 until October 13th

love this silly lookin dog

this is why my blog feels so safe to me tbh

thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.

The Fall