• top: yone (i don't vibe w/ tops :-/)
  • mid: lux, yone
  • jung: nunu, shaco
  • bot: cait
  • supp: lux, nami, karma
may 18 2025 ∞
may 18 2025 +
  • metaphors, symbolism, and cosmic parallels
  • cosmic lux
  • art and expression as outlets & survival mechanisms
  • the face that reflects the sea (sea of stars)
  • sanctity in connection and understanding
  • i see you
may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +
  • INTJ-T
  • aquarius
  • 1w9 ??? 8w9?????
  • peach flavored things
mar 18 2021 ∞
may 18 2025 +

if i drew you something please credit my TH

  • toyhouse (ask)
  • twitter (private)
mar 17 2021 ∞
aug 21 2023 +

SEAN u bastard why did you block me

  • spam/flooding, clutches my head
  • unnecessarily abrasive or hurtful behavior
  • you're probably too young to be on web forums
mar 17 2021 ∞
jan 10 2022 +
  • it's too painful to grieve the drowned boy
  • it was too painful to grieve the coyote boy
  • & now i'm grieving the coyote boy to avoid grieving the drowned boy
  • seanha is always several steps behind
  • i never want to grieve for anyone ever again
may 6 2025 ∞
may 6 2025 +

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3GKoKP...

i am a thinker in all aspects of the word except when it comes to love. then i am ruled mercilessly by my heart. it’s why i am slow to engage, slow to trust and slow to fully let down my guard. once i start to love someone, it feels impossible to stop. a perversion of my heart. a promise made to my own soul, now violated. (i am young and not yet wise in the ways of the world.)

the whole act of love for me is a war waged in my own head.

even as I move on it’s in the midst of some war. if i live life with my heart and my head personified, as separate individuals (an inconsistent team) tied together at the waist, then my fear-hued logic, scorn and spite is yanking the rope, begging to keep moving forward—and my poor heart lies stubbornly on the ground, tear-stained and ghost-eyed, arms wrapped tig...

may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +

A homage to all the people who have held and broken my heart:

my best friend, lou, the star-eyed and his fog tread, the shattered boy, little green, michelle and all the rest, the first and last Galatea, her (or some idea of her), the coyote boy and the serpent girl, the yet-nameless boy of the mist and all the others i have yet to meet

heartbreak is a familiar feeling. longing is a soul-carved name. hiraeth etched into my every rib (my lungs scrape the engravings with every breath). there exists an empyrean comfort in this pain—akin to the way an old wound aches. like a finger traced reverent over ancient scars. fated like the way the body unravels beneath entropy and becomes starlight

i loved you all. i don’t miss you. thank you for having walked at my side.

this pain is something i’ve felt before. this specific version of spring tastes ...

may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +

everyone wants to touch my soul everyone wants to be loved by me

  • on shitty sublettors, shitty exes, shitty people
may 12 2025 ∞
may 12 2025 +

i think i live more in my mind and my art and my poetry (however nonsensical) than i do in any tangible, actual state of existence. something awful happens and eventually it just becomes artwork to me. a feeling to associate with music so i might better appreciate a melody. first: the despair and rage against the unfairness of it all. then: the quell and collapse into the peaceful resignation of a person with a blue soul. grief color. sea color. star color.

(is this living? my god, i think this is living.)

in the wintertime I am especially fond of hot drinks. i am irrational in that when i leave the warm coffeeshop with a hot drink in my hands, i try to cover every exposed bit of the cup with my fingers, as if to prevent the heat from escaping. to prevent it all from dissipating into the cold. i feel so sorry for it. a tenuous, ...

may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +

getting photographed while crying in the exhibit about grief like a miscommunication. like how you said I need space and I heard I need you. except we were once people who cared about each other and the photographer did not care about me at all. the photographer only cared about his photographs

may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +

one thing I have realized is that you either have all of me or you have none of me, and I think most people would prefer something in between where they eat the pretty fragrant bright parts and surgically chew around the bitter pit;

it would be fine if I were capable of existing this way— only I have a tendency to spill my guts to anyone who stays, like overripe fruit

dated: February 27, 2024

may 2 2025 ∞
may 2 2025 +