The Smell of Parchment & PetrichorI write sometimes19! they/thembe kind
82 posts
'my hands are my heart' by gabriel orozco, 1991 in art21: art in the twenty-first century (2003)
speaking of childhood trauma it's crazy how dabi and hawks both had a violent father and an absent mother growing up like they both felt so unprotected, which is why hawks becomes this hyperinderpendent mature 22yo guy and dabi becomes his own vengeful angel
I'm already human and dont call me Detroit
shoutout to people who find mother’s day hard to deal with whether your mom left, your mom died, your mom is abusive, your mom is hard to connect with, you don’t get to see her, etc. get through today as best you can. love you.
on the way to a house not a home
it fucked up to see people who are around my age live through a genocide and have to market themselves as someone worthy of being saved to get people to donate to them.
it just seems so dehumanising. like is one supposed to worry about their current conditions or think up new marketing strategies.
no aid has been allowed in gaza in 70+ days. people are starving. it's so messed up to have to market oneself during all this in order to afford food.
it's heartbreaking to see young children going without proper food and nutrition.
please help @abdalsalam2000. he's around my age and has nieces and nephews who are very young. they don't deserve to go hungry. his old gofundme was deleted without any reason and he's trying very hard to advocate for his family's survival. please have heart and help him in WhatsApp way you can.
donate here (verified #4)
wanted to join this heart-wrenching jayvik valstoick scene redraw trend
i want to go home pls you can take me home now
haha. You did irreparable damage btw
Don't become so afraid of being annoying that you don't allow yourself to be anything at all.
Was your star next to mine ?
Girls who cry when they’re angry are angels
˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚
Hallow
Inspired by ‘Abstract Basketry’ by Fujino Kazutomo
in another life, i would’ve really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you
.
i haven't been very active here, so i'm gonna try to upload all my recent works to fix that! i'm currently in my jayvik era so i have a lot of them to share
I keep forgetting what I’m doing in the middle of doing it. Keep walking into a room only to go in circles confused. Boxes are half-packed. An old sweater is evidence in a case I can’t close. Smells like spring sweat and laundry detergent and nights I didn’t cry. Smells like someone else’s life. I fold it, I unfold it. Sit on the floor and let the carpet burn into my skin until I remember who I am. I made a home here. Multiplying myself by one; I'm the exact same number but a process has occurred.
Moving in for the summer. To the house with the hole in the door and the woman with the tongue of a snake. The walls listen. Time has passed and new people love me.
I want to be a lighthouse. A warning and a welcome. I know my existence is temporary. And so is yours. The fact that we eventually gave parts of ourselves to people who may only be passing through our life is even more absurd than the fact that I can still recall a stranger’s favorite movie from years ago. It’s true what they say; a place is only as good as the people in it. I miss you.
I quit smoking two weeks ago. But the craving still curls in my throat like something half-alive. My lungs taste like promises I don’t want to make, I can't keep. A ritual, in lullaby. Warning signs I keep ignoring. A ghosted friend, it’s waiting for you to come back home. Maybe healing isn’t healing, maybe you just learn to carry your rot more quietly. You are not who you were last november. You’re safe; it’s only change.
You walk through the world reading patterns like omens. Separate harm from hurt, sickness from survival. Studying monsters or trying to understand your parents. I’m both the predator and the prey, I’ll catch myself then eat myself whole.
I’m nineteen. Which means I know everything and nothing at the same time; an apology, an excuse. The universe is an ongoing explosion. That’s where you live. In an explosion. We absolutely don’t know what living is. Sometimes atoms just get very haunted. That’s us. When an explosion explodes hard enough, dust wakes up and thinks about itself. And writes about it too, apparently.
Sometimes I lie to my therapist because I don’t want her to think it’s getting bad again. Sometimes I cry while doing the dishes because the clinks means someone is throwing them. My ribs are setting wrong in my body. How did that sweet little girl turn into this horrid creature? everything is better when it’s private.
In the middle of becoming. I keep dreaming about the idea of home. blankets and fairy lights and spotify rain playlists and the soft. There’s something soft in me that refuses to die. It is almost time that I change shape again. It’s out of my control.
I don’t mind the walk.
It’s summer and I’m getting better. hopefully. Dandelions are starting to swell at my feet, seas going over hills. I've missed the yellow. The wishes of childhood. where had it been all this time?
05/10/2025
Rain in the distance.
yeah
“how’s the veganism work with your whole thing with vampires” i’m not the one eating blood. Hope this helps
The birds here call like they know something I don’t. Tried to talk back but I’ve forgotten their language. Dug in the dirt. Wrote 3000 words but only one felt like it mattered.
05/08/2025
something something despite the all horrors and tragedies of the world, love was there and that's all that matters
Your lips my lips, apocalypse 💫
- cigarettes after sex
Art credit: @viklooud
just some skatepark in prague
Pulled at the thread that is holding me together at my seams until almost all stitches came undone and my heart and lungs and liver were in a neat pile by my feet.
05/07/2025
All the Arcane Tarot Cards, together~
honestly I can’t believe I was able to draw all of this haha but!! glad I pulled thru