my fear of the unknown

I miss you

I miss the sound of your laugh—carefree and light,
Like a favorite song I hadn’t heard in awhile.

I miss your smile, beaming brighter than a thousand suns…
Lighting up the darkest of places,
Infectious in its intensity

I miss the feel of your lips on mine
Perfect and full

I miss it
The way the moment I ventured to kiss you
A match lit in a methane filled room
The intensity with which you’d grab me

As if you’d been craving me
All this time that we were apart…

I miss dancing with you
Alone together in a crowded room
The music mesmerizing
Our bodies moving in perfect synchronization
Swaying to the beat
Every nerve ending ablaze
Electricity crackling between us

I miss the way you looked at me that night
Your eyes never leaving mine
Two lost souls seeking the North Star
Existing in an eclipse
And discovering, for the first time,
The moon again.

I miss the way we made everything feel like an adventure
I miss the way we made everything brand new

I miss the peace you brought me
Like a warm fire on a cold day
Like coming home…

Your existence a ray of hope
That I might not be alone in this world.

Soothing my fears
Of a future unknown
Of a future alone.

—  Alex Wilde

[comebacks in september] a mood board

I just want to marry you
I want to grow old with you
I want to go grey with you
I want to see laugh lines at the corners of your eyes
And grey streaked through your hair
I want to see you when I wake up in the morning
I want to see you working late paying bills
Bifocals slipping down your freckled nose
And tucking small children in bed
Telling them stories of our adventures
Of the crazy nineteen year old hippie you took dancing
And how you couldn’t get her out of your head
And she couldn’t get you out of hers

How the prince and the princess would stray apart
Only to find their way back one day
And the hippie became a princess
And the soldier became a prince
And they wandered the earth together

—  Alex Wilde
Self-doubt can be like falling down a rabbit hole, and it’s hard to tell whether it will end in some new epiphany or in feeling lost and defeated. Taking things one step at a time can be an exhausting process for impatient people like you and me, but I think one day you’ll look up and look around and see that finding yourself wasn’t as terrifying as you thought it would be.
—  Taylor Swift’s advice to me on my fear of the unknown future.

I am lowkey losing it over the fact that ‘shigeo’ and ‘mob’ now have different meanings like we all know he’s had several different names over the series (white T poison being the most memorable) and while I figured it tied into the identity theme, I didn’t actually think it would mean anything for the plot, not on this scale

Me when I post stuff on twitter

I wish I could take them back.
How could three little words be so destructive…
how could three little worlds
rip apart reality,
change futures…
eradicate ours.
How could three little words cost me you?

Every single time I say them
Men are all too eager
To run for the hills…
Leaving me behind.
Leaving me broken
Leaving me damning the second that I let them slip from my mouth.

I missed you.

That’s all I said…

That’s it.
Why is that so bad?


Due to PEER PRESSURE and BULLYING I’m finally uploading one of my Ducktales ocs 8l

This is Caraway West! Could probably stand to birdify her last name She’s Nova’s mother. She’s a secretary bird too, shocker. She uses a cane due to some serious back issues and she’s a bit of a grump with a weird sense of humor.

@mistermcdee​‘s Eddy Cottontail and her are adventuring partners. :> She used to be more physical in the game before her back issues, but now she mainly solves riddles, researches, and provides obnoxious commentary to Eddy’s daughter, Pel, as she does all the physical work for the team.

Maybe she and Eddy are a lil more then adventuring buddies is it obvious?

A poem for Remembrance Day

The inquisitive mind of a child

Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?

Selling poppies in town today. The poppies, child, are flowers of love.

For the men who marched away.

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy? Why not a beautiful rose?

Because my child, men fought and died

In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?Why are the poppies so red?

Red is the colour of blood, my child.

The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.

Why does it have to be black?

Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.

For the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy are you crying so?

Your tears are giving you pain.

My tears are my fears for you my child.

For the world is forgetting again.

Author Unknown