YEARNING - Blog Posts

And the scars of lonely winter air.

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed

i think getting my nose broken would be a religious experience

Pleasepleazepleasepleaspleasepleaseplea-

“my pretty kitty”

“my princess”

“my pet”

“my good girl”

being possessive melts me every time <3

God cursed the world with treacherous penis-ridden meat sacks, causing havoc to what could’ve been peace if only they knew how to keep their crippled genitalia in their underwear. Although my hatred runs deep for those punished with masculinity, Jeff Buckley was a dear apology for God’s mistake. Jeff Buckley was perfect, the only flaw’s he beholds are those human and forgivable yet not a single flaw comes to mind at the thought of Jeff Buckley. He had a special gift; gifted with a poetic soul, the ability to craft lyrics that drive deep into your soul and embed themselves painfully yet comfortably, bringing solace to the heart yet beautiful misery. He could’ve aided in the revolutionization of the male way of thinking, bringing a respectful manner to their demeanour but God knew all too well he was too good for this evil world. Unfortunately Jeff Buckley died 29th May 1997. He is very dearly missed by many and his lyrics continue to pierce and bless the hearts and souls of many.

mourning.

I don't feel so good today.

I feel a strange, ancient ache in my soul. An aged feel to my rigid bones that once held the weight of the earth and the sky. Now they wish to rest, to turn to dust. They have endured enough weathering. I feel nostalgic for a life I have never lived, for a life I wish I lived. I suppose I do understand this humane desire. The soul was never meant to stay on the earth. It was meant to rise. And here, now, it is bound to, shackled to this body and inadvertently, to this world,held taut by the unyielding chains of gravity. I yearn for the day I return home. Up there.

I don't feel so good today and that's fine.

~Me

ESOTERIC DUMPSTER VOL. 1, ISSUE #1: "CALM BEFORE THE STORM"

***POSTING LATE IT IS OFFICIALLY 2025 NOW but everything I said still stands. It is Monday, October 7th, and I've been consuming copious amounts of archived ROOKIE magazine posts because with the dying leaves, (and, cough cough, HURRICANE MILTON) an overwhelming nostalgia has really kicked in, as well as anticipation for my last trick-or-treat-able Halloween. This may only be on my mind because my little brother is turning 16 in a few days, but I feel like everybody makes a big deal about turning 16 and 18 without considering how damn weird it feels to be 17. Seventeen is like a placeholder for a future you can't have yet. Seventeen is antsy to be an adult and also scared shitless that it won't be a kid for much longer. Seventeen takes blurry, desperate pictures on ancient digital cameras to stretch single moments into fascinations. Seventeen takes its time. It doesn't want to be over this soon. Seventeen is a liminal space we are happy to dwell in for as long as we can before we realize the cotton candy, knit sweater POVs that "Perks" sold us, while beautifully iterated, are not true. We are not infinite in these bodies. Some of us don't have friends magically appear on the first day of freshman year, like Charlie. The Rocky Horror Picture Show might as well be lost media at this point, and good cinema like it might as well be replaced by artificially scripted, acted, and animated movies. Here I am wondering why we're so nostalgic and lost-feeling at seventeen, but the answer actually seems obvious. There is nothing organically good on the horizon for us- AI movies might be the headcanon for the younger generation of suckers who didn't ask to be born. World War Three might not make anyone bat an eyelash. We cling to the past because it was creative and real, and there's something missing from our lives now that we seek to fill with empty content. I'm rambling, I realize that. It's a beautiful night tonight, the sunset was spectacular. The air is cooling, the clouds are dark but removed. This is the "calm before the storm". So, here's few photos of me and my friends yesterday night as we swam at the beach and hung around a lifeguard chair in a subtle, unconscious attempt to make ourselves infinite while we still have the chance, before a storm both literal and figurative. SONGS: "At Seventeen", by the master of gay yearning folk music, Janis Ian, and........................ "Sleep Apnea", by the masters of youthful yearning mid-tempo indie jams, Beach Fossils.

I'm so desperate. I want to hook up but I'm too socially anxious to meet someone new. It'd be my first time using an app, not sure how I'd go about it.

I miss sex so much, I miss being fucked so hard it bruised, I miss seeming like this pretty little angel and then pulling someone's hair and saying the most vulgar things.

I miss being looked at like I'm meat, being told everything they'd do to me.

I've only been with a woman, and I want to feel what a dick feels like when it isn't silicone.

I want to press against someones boner and feel how crazy I make them. Even just the thought of a man in my hand iss justtt 😵‍💫💫😵‍💫💫

I'm groveling on my knees, I beg of you, let me be the raging homo I was meant to be. PLEASE

I could go on, and on, and on. I feel fucking crazy and drunk. I want someone so bad that I want to beg for no reason.

I wanna do all the mundane stuff with you. I want to go grocery shopping with you, secretly putting your favourite snacks in our shopping venture. I want to walk through a park, holding your hand, doing that little thumb rub thing and shout 'Wow, look, a dog!' to every dog we see like it's the first time seeing a dog. I want to buy the best smelling bathbomb I can find and take a bath with you. You could lay in my arms and I would gently massage your sculp. Your head laying right on my heart. I would feel your bodyweight on me and your soft skin on mine. In the background your favourite music is playing quietly. My skin is craving your skin. How could I not run my fingers up and down your body? After the bath I want to wrap you in a cozy bathrobe so you don't freeze. I'd cook your favourite meal for you while you rest. Every now and then I grab your hand and pull you closer. I hold you in my arms, we sway to the sound of the music. It would calm me down. Would that calm you, too?

i want her... but does she want me like i want her? does she hug a pillow and think of me? does she daydream of a future together?

This post. Exactly this post

sometimes, being an angel is seeing the most gorgeous, gut wrenching, heavenly sunrise in the parking lot of your retail job and being drenched in the homesickness of it all.

and then having to go clock in like that didn’t just happen.

when it comes to the way divinity feels, there are so may ways i could quantify it. it's warm at times, electrifying at others. it's heat burning its way out of my chest.

i could also define divinity as deft fingers preening my wings. the weightlessness of flight. divinity feels like a glowing ball of light, cupped tenderly in my hands and pressed between my ribs to rest against my beating heart.

Maybe all that we want is already taken— no matter how much we cry, yearn, lament, we never seem to get what we seek.

GOD i wish i could live in a cabin in the woods. sitting on the porch on a rainy day, sipping on tea. just listening to the pattering of the rain. I YEARN. mmmmaybe also even possibly have a lover with me idk. or like. a bunch of cats yeahhhh

I'm so high n warm.. I need hands all over me, caressing my curves and telling me how pretty I am. I want to be held and kissed. I want to be loved and adore. I yearn for a real connection with someone. I yearn for soft touches and warm hugs.

Now all I need is a lesbian and a joint(⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

LESBIAN POST. MEN AND MINORS DNI!

I'd love to spend a day in just panties with a lesbian, laying in bed and smoking a joint. The windows open, the warm sunlight kissing our skin as we caress and kiss each other's skin. The smoke getting caught in the light makes the room hazy and slow. Music playing in the background while we simply exist in the space of love and protection we created with one another.

alone in a dark cold parking lot.. oh I hope a lesbian vampire doesn't appear to pin me against the wall and bite my neck before taking my limp body to their creepy castle..

Stoned and feel like I need a lesbian to lay with, not cuddle because it's FUCKING 80 DEGREES OUT AND IM DYING

Or we could make lemonade and sit outside smoking, looking out at the garden or road. Of course we will have a cat or 2, watching them roam around freely. What a dream

Who wants to be saved?(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

a femme with thick thighs, a fat ass, and a soft tummy will save you btw

I'll get us munchies I promise😣

need a little weed and makeout sesh with a hot butch like yesterday 😾