Pieces - Blog Posts
Chickpea Maltagliati e Fagioli - Soups, Stews and Chili Gluten-free chickpea lasagna sheets are broken into uneven pieces and cooked with cranberry beans for a twist on the traditional Italian stew.
Honey-Glazed Baked Salmon - Salmon This honey-glazed salmon - baked with Asian flavors like ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and green onions - is sweet and savory at once.
what's your sign and do you organize the cards in your hand when playing uno
Asian - Chicken 65 This chicken 65 recipe, a very well-liked Indian dish, provides mouthwateringly succulent pieces of red-hot chicken!
Cranberry BBQ Chicken - Meat and Poultry A great way to make everyone's favorite chicken even more fun--bake the chicken with your favorite bottled barbecue sauce and a can of cranberries.
Miami Cuban Dip - Dips and Spreads
Carrot and Parsnip Mash
quality blog vs. shitposter
quality blog: libra, capricorn, sagittarius, taurus, aquarius
shitposter: aries, gemini, cancer, leo, virgo, scorpio
quality shitposter: pisces
Signs as Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Characters
Aries - Mahiro Koizumi Taurus - Nagito Komaeda Gemini - Mikan Tsumiki Cancer - Gundham Tanaka Leo - Ibuki Mioda Virgo - Peko Pekoyama Libra - Kazuichi Souda Scorpio - Hiyoko Saoinji Sagittarius - Chiaki Nanami Capricorn - Sonia Nevermind Aquarius - Hajime Hinata Pisces - Byakuya Togami
Saint Motel
Are they indie? Of course my friend
Songs to Listen to: Puzzle Pieces and Cold, Cold Man
It's my pie...
The way I describe my depression is that I'm a piece of pie; missing a piece. Now, you can fill the missing piece with another piece of pie, say, an apple pie, but my pie is blueberry pie. So, the apple pie fits into the missing piece, but it will forever be an apple pie in a sea of blue berry, it doesn't fit, it's not going to fit, and sure it may taste good, but the truth is, it's not blueberry, and that feeling, that nagging feeling in the back if your mind, that blueberry is not apple, and apple is not blueberry, starts to drive you crazy. So you do this.
You try to fill the piece of you missing, with cake. Chocolate cake, mind you, which is kind of the best. But when you fit the cake into your missing piece, the crumbs don't match up to fully fit into your pie. So you get that nagging feeling again that not all is right with the world. But the nagging feeling is now an itch that you can't quite scratch. You, as the pie, just want to be a whole blueberry pie. Is that so hard to ask? So you do this.
You try to make a whole other piece of blueberry pie, a better pie if you do say so yourself. But you know, and your mind knows, and your heart knows, and your big toe knows, that you can't just make a whole other pie when that old pie with the missing piece is sitting right there, watching you, judging you, needing you.
So you sit at the kitchen table, with the light shining on you like a halo, and you choose, I mean, you have to choose, right? Life is all about choices! You have the whole pie, and the one with the piece missing. You want the whole piece of pie, because that's fucking happiness, and the other is fucking misery. You want to be happy right? Right? RIGHT? Or do you want the missing piece, and feel relatively whole every once in a while, but utterly broken? What do you want? And you ponder, because what you want is usually dictated to you, and you've never actually stopped to think about what you want? Did you ask to be a blueberry pie?
So I, as the maker of the blueberry pie, make my choice. I am neither whole, or broken, I am on the verge of completion. I make my own choices. My depression is my own, and I control it. I will be whole, and I will be broken, and I have to live with it, I have to be okay with it. I have to be okay with it.
Ripped into a thousand pieces
Left with a hopeless mess
Spend all my blood on the way
To find a place to rest
And I swear I'm trying my best
But it drags me down
Again till nothing's left
Nothing's left to be found
Lime-Tarragon Grilled Chicken - Chicken Thigh A lime-tarragon marinade for juicy flavorful chicken pieces - moist and delicious. I like to marinate the pieces and cook them on the grill for a nice summer meal.
I am glad that I met you.
Or else I would've never met myself.
And I am glad that you left me.
So now I know that being by myself is not so bad.
Sure, I was broken into tiny pieces when you stopped holding hands.
Sure, I did cry myself to sleep whenever I thought of your cold eyes.
I bared my soul and you gripped it a little too tight.
Now I lay broken, and like the blood in my veins, I flow through your cold fingers.
Drip by drip I fall onto the floor, a puddle of dreams and uncherished love.
But somewhere along the way, the red started to turn black.
And somewhere along the way, my tears started to form stars.
The tired sighs that fell from my lips have turned to swirls of white and gold.
The day you broke me, I fell.
I fell a human, and landed a galaxy.
I can still feel the pain of your touches.
But on those days, I burn a little more brighter.
I may have been broken once, but I gathered the pieces and here I stand.
A galaxy amidst the vast, cold emptiness that's you.
A galaxy that you can never touch without burning yourself too.
