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(I would like to) Exist

Blu tack is not permitted on rented walls,

so instead I use ‘adhesive poster strips’.

Advertised personality is a necessity for those egotistical enough

to desire existence.

It’s only when the posters come down,

and you peel the preferred adhesive away carefully,

that you come to understand the cost of existing:

The posters tear

and the paint peels off anyway

and you wonder why you even bothered in the first place.

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Raicey and Tamatoa (The hermit crab) got some new furniture today! 😍

A very sweet individual donated the shell bed and arch! 😭🥰💖

The animal crossing community is literally the sweetest thing ever. I cant wait until I can pay it forward somehow.

But here we are. Living our best #BeachLife the wallpaper and paintings were QR codes I found. I made the terrible sand flooring myself 😅 and the mermaid dress is also a QR code I found 😄 (~not trying to take credit for other peoples amazing artwork😍).

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me: *turns down the music volume so my partner can hear a rhythmic snapping noise* sound effects!

my partner: *stops doing what they’re doing slowly, anticipating that this will be something weird but not fully taking in what level of weird it will be*

my partner: *looks at me expectantly, their expression fading into confusion and then horror as they realize the rhythmic snapping noise they can hear from six or so feet away is the sound my wrist is making as i rotate it*

me: sound effects! :D

my partner: NO

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He focused instead on the weight pulling down on his forearms as he transferred bags (some plastic and translucent; others, recycled paper with handles that chafed) and boxes (mostly cardboard; one, large and wooden) methodically into the trunk of the mini-van. There was a comfort in the quiet burn of muscle fibers, the preoccupation of a task that allowed him to ignore (or at least pretend to) the gaze on his back.

But it was inevitable.

At some point, there were no more bags to carry or boxes to load. The trunk was full. It had to be closed.

He did so, reluctantly; and there was a strange sense of finality to the click of metal before he finally turned to face the man.

There was a smile on his father’s face.

It was a peculiar expression. Not that his father didn’t smile often – on the contrary, his father almost perpetually wore that sort of expression – gentle, airy, and cautious, as though he were always entertaining company. Growing up, he never quite knew how to feel about it.

But this smile was different. It felt less practiced; a little heavier and more sallow, somehow. He couldn’t bring himself to return it, even as his father’s eyes settled on his own, expectantly.

(What was he expecting?)

“Take care, Cho,” his father said, eventually; and he felt a sense of relief that the older man had finally taken it upon himself to break the silence. He was almost grateful, too, for the embrace that followed –though the gesture felt thin, the late autumn wind blowing through gaps to chill his bare arms - with his chin meeting the brown shoulder of his father’s suede jacket, he no longer had to contemplate that expectant smile.

He nodded, unable to murmur anything beyond a bland acknowledgement; that hollow-heavy smile skirting the periphery of his vision.

The car started with a gentle rumble. He watched it stutter to life, tremble, and then sputter slowly off into the distance.


It was the end of the quarter, and winter break had arrived.

Jae-seung had already made his exit earlier, duffel bag slung over a shoulder as he saluted a flamboyant “Farewell, captain!” before hopping into a carpool van headed for the airport terminal. He’d booked a trip to Thailand months ago, never one to suffer the dreary gloom of winter if he had the choice.

The apartment was quiet now, except for the sounds of his remaining apartment-mate packing. Eventually, she emerged with a laundry basket toted on one hip and a backpack hanging off the other shoulder. Lowering her load to the ground, she shuffled to join him at the kitchen table.

She blinked up at him owlishly.

“So, you’re just planning to stay here over break?”

He paused around a mouthful of cereal. (Even he got lazy about dinner, sometimes.)


She quirked an eyebrow at him and he mirrored the gesture. “Is your…” she began, then seemed to think better of it. Shaking her head, she instead gave him a half-perplexed, half-mock-sympathetic expression. “Well….I guess if that’s what you want to do.”

(Was it?)

 He paused, spooning in another two mouthfuls before eventually replying. “Still going to be working around here, so it’s more convenient. My brother might visit me for a few days. He’s flying in from the East Coast.” Another pause. “I might see my mom for a little, too.”

Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “You have a brother?”

He hid a smile behind another mouthful of cereal. “Is that so hard to imagine?”

She cleared her throat to backpedal her enthusiasm. “Well, no, but…I don’t know. You don’t talk about him much.”

Her eyes flickered to his. He felt the other questions simmering in the look, unspoken; and while the attention wasn’t unpleasant, it did make him feel a bit self-conscious.

He shrugged. “Guess not.”

Faintly, her lips twisted, as if dissatisfied with the answer (which, admittedly, was a bit sparse); but she held whatever other inquiries she had and settled for a shrug of her own. “I’m just trying to picture what kind of person he’d be…is he older or younger?”

“What do you think?”

She rolled her eyes, before cocking her head to professionally examine him from various angles, as if that would shed light on the details of his genealogy. “Hmmm, maybe…older?”

He opened his mouth to reply before he was cut off.

“Oh—“ her eyes flickered to the screen of her buzzing phone, and she quickly swiped to answer, gaze now on the door. “Hey, yeah – okay, I’m coming. See you soon.”

Her gaze swept back to him before she stood.

“Alright, I think I’m going to head off now.” Bending over, she reached for her things. He rose to help, but she quickly waved him off. “No, no, I’m fine—go finish your sad excuse of a dinner.”

He rolled his eyes as she wrested the backpack from him and scurried towards the door; he followed her, despite her chiding. A bit harried, she turned to him. “Cho –“


That was the only way he could describe the feeling that jolted suddenly through his chest; sharp and searing and frankly disorienting, but only for a fraction of a second, like a bolt of lightning. 

Nevertheless, she must have noticed it; because she had stopped now and was looking at him carefully.

(Was he that transparent?)

She slowed her movements as she pulled on her shoes. (The back of her left sneaker had folded under a heel, and he could tell she was ignoring the discomfort of it to focus her attention on him. Funny.)

“…have a good break.” The words were soft. He wasn’t sure why she felt the need to speak to him in so gentle a tone.

(Or maybe it was just his imagination?)

“You too.” His hand met the top of her head, mussing her hair - to which she shot him a mildly annoyed look.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” she called, trouncing out the door with a hop, urgently lugging her laundry basket towards the pick-up turnaround.

He stood at the doorway until her figure blended with the crowd of other students reuniting with their rides, disappearing into the darkening sky, and then returned to the dinner table.

A small ding sounded from his phone. A text.

By the way, if you’re not doing anything, let’s meet up on one of the weekdays?

Pondering the message, he finished his cereal with a smile.


there are different kinds of good-byes

( based off of these flower prompts - cyclamen

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haven’t posted here in forever but am gonna try to be a bit more active!
some pics of the girlfriends from the past few months, dj keeps getting more demon like and pix gets more angelic & i’m absolutely living for it

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in other news I accidentally put body wash in my hair instead of shampoo again

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Devo estar no circo

Pois sempre haverá risadas ensurdecedoras a minha volta

A sua é a mais escandalosa

É satisfatório ver a humilhação

Por isso sou seu fantoche né?

Admita que sou apenas sua piada favorita

A que controlas

A que achas que tem na palma de sua mão

Como marionetista peço que comece logo o show

Use e abuse do seu boneco

O tenha até cansar

Pois mesmo jogado fora estarei a disposição

Para mais um espetáculo sem emoção

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