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Hey,

If there is any future where you’d feel comfortable meeting for a cup of coffee, I’m confident I've reached a point of stability to maintain a healthy level of care and consideration both during and after that meeting. If this is something you’d dislike, there is no need for a response, I understand, and you will not be hearing from me or this blog again.

            Giddy up! Giddy up! Your carriage is waiting, the bells are singing! ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

                                                                               ***

I’m just looking for a friend. Her voice is ringing through my window. The sun is rising through my window.

                                                                                 ***

            In the meantime, I’ve been sketching the underbelly of hulls; the minnows and stripers twiddling their thumbs, having waited all this time to sneak a glimpse of, at least.

                                                                                 ***

The raft has crossed over the strait. “What’s it like on the other side?” Asked one minnow from the rear-end of the line.

                                                                                 ***

            “Breeze is cooler,” said the hull.

                                                                                ***

My voice shakes every chorus to pieces. I’m confused as to what I should be singing, insofar there is anything to say.

                                                                                 ***

            Waves and time lap up my left side, churning the world softly like a lazy susan. 

                                                                                 ***

Men slink away in the off hours—giddy up boys, the carriage is waiting!

My Ms Paint Art

Cool Dog Wearing Sunglasses Surfing Through Outer-Space Thinking About And Missing His Best Friend—that even though this is his first time in space and that he has been saving up money for this new jet-powered surfboard over the past 2 years and has dreamed about flying through/going to space ever since first learning that there were worlds separate from ours, places teeming with possibilities of novel-adventure and new strange people, different from the ones he already knew, as sometimes, when he’s just going about his day, he starts thinking about how he has probably already met and become familiar with every “type” of person there was on Earth, and that he was generally indifferent to the high majority of them, beginning to imagine that his soul would be forever alone, that everyone he’d ever met, in a sort-of way, had been born an orphan, Each heart lost deep within the infinite inescapable cave of itself, and that somehow, already having exhausted any possible way to reconcile with this, that he just wasn’t made to be happy, that while growing up there most have been some sort-of specific shameable incident where he had suffered in a socially demeaning sort-of way but had long ago covered this memory up with an uncountable amount of thick layers of psychic quicksand, so that whenever he tried to focus on what could be wrong with him, he instead just would continue to seep deeper in himself, frightened.—Just How At A Specific Morning Where He Had Been Staring At Her, Quietly Sipping Her Tea And Eating Eggs, Remembering How He Was Surprised To Notice That He Had Not Been Thinking Anything But Happy, Contained, Grateful, Cherishing Thoughts About Her, About His Life Embedded Within The Context of hers And Vice Versa, And That He Was—inarguably— Very Happy To Be Alive.

Dead Snowman In a Blizzard

Autistic and lonely mouse browsing the internet on it's laptop trying to find a suitable cookie recipe to relive stress/boredom

Nihilistic Lion's Dream which in his unconscious manifests itself in the form of a choice between a single cheeseburger and small dagger.

Tired but not sleepy guy in a sasquatch suit feeling moderately surprised with himself that he feels calm and sastiated for the first time in 45-50 hours

 Pie Explosion