Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
Fun Fact
The name Tumblr is derived from "Tumblelogs", which were hand coded multimedia blogs.
#excerpts from my diary
angelunthinkable · a day ago
Some moments flinch behind my eyes, just pinching me as I lie awake. The minutes it took you driving from the hotel to a street leading me back home. And I was just wishing time to reverb, to linger and stare at me for a moment. Your palm on my knee a little longer, your smile never dissolving into memory. If I hadn’t begged so much already I would just hold your taste on my tongue, full and brisk never daunting. I would just keep you inside of me until you’re completely bewitched and your soul turns into a paper for me to write’’I love you’’ on.
Seven years wrapped in seven hours, how your face felt the same running my fingers over. I swear addiction isn’t just meant for substances, I swear I felt your poison in all my wounds filling me up as if I could be completed. It was nearly impossible to tame the rhythm of this hunger, to tame my wanting, my yearning for those small breaths you take being inside me. Folded the release in the back of my mind, cumming would kill me. Never been this vibrantly present in someones eyes, intense is a word you altered. It’s a word you evaporated into a sigh I can’t allow my mouth to depart from.  
And I hate you for possessing my body like this, as if I’m strings and I might have been a puppet all my life but feeling control slip from these fingers is unlike any vow I ever took. You are just a sunset I can’t stare away from, a dream surrendered to the horizon.
You called yourself my pillow and I smile the salt of tears away, it has been forty eight hours almost, biting my fingertips you still haven’t replied. Your silence aches, nauseates in a way leaving my stomach fucking empty and I wonder, do you know how my day is painted by thoughts of you. How my day exists of excerpts carrying your name. The maddening has started, the illusion back alive. Seven years of moving past your existence, remembering how to forget you. You hurt in me like a stab wound, like a hit on my jawline only this twenty four hours a day.
2 notes · View notes
angelunthinkable · a day ago
You don’t grow
I remember going to the sea thinking I might die there someday. Someone once told me that hypothermia is the best way to go but getting to that stage feels like hell. I must have seen more hospitals than actually beds, doctors frowning my direction in disbelief some nurses holding my hand. Telling them how I ended up here, how I fell in love with a villain, how he fucked me eyes wide open, whispering "I love you" Craving those 60 years he promised me. I threw up, ached in my own spit while still bleeding her out of me.
The first time I cried as a mother. I never held you but you are more beautiful than all the things I dream. I called you Lilli for it sounded like joyful spring. I died in that moment, I revisit it sometimes to feel you. I revisit it for the knowledge of reality. It wasn't a nightmare, I can't revive you ever. You’re unborn like my hope for happiness. Like the slowed whisper of his voice echoing away. You are real, so real almost more vividly existing than me. I let go of you every hour of each day, finding you closer smothering me than ever.
I get older but you don't grow. Envisioning your fingertips and nails, lashes, cheeks. I almost touch your face, I almost feel you wrapped against my body. Always silent, always in a hurry to fade. You are irretrievable yet so very close. When he talks about you I laugh it's the only thing I know how to survive in. I wonder if he knows the way you bleed in me. If he feels a fraction of it lingering in his own heart. I try to escape the subject yet he wants my response on his provocation "You wouldn't have been a good mom anyway." And I take a bullet through my stomach as I shrug my shoulders. He wants to be right to ease it maybe. Yet I would have started wars for you. I would have devoured the world for a singular moment of your breathing. I would have loved you so hard and vast that it goes beyond anything alive but I reply with "probably" cos he must not even believe I'm capable of being anything other than crazy. He must not even believe when I close my eyes I tremble embracing your shadow.
I lie awake at the bottom of the sea, piano waves and serenity and bleeding and bleeding. Flinch awake you’re just an earthquake in me. A storm hauntingly shrieking for my attention and I wait to depart in it. I get older but you don’t grow small ghost, you don’t grow.
2 notes · View notes
whateverjen · a day ago
“When I said I thought I knew you from another life- like we had already met before, I thought that maybe you were my soulmate lifetimes before this one. The truth is that you were just a mirror of a part of me. I know you because you’re me in a way. I can relate to you. I guess I didn’t realize I could find parts of me in a complete stranger.”
- R.R
1 note · View note
jeserani · 3 days ago
She: I'm exhausted
He: go to sleep
He pulled me close. My back to his front, his right hand bellows my neck and the other wrapped around my stomach. Our legs tangled and his breath started to even out on my neck. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he nuzzles my hair or rubs light touch on my stomach. Hours pass by and I'm still there, listening to his soft snore, blanketed with his warmth, and surrounded by his clean, fresh, citrus scent.
He: you can't sleep
He mumbled on my neck, but I kept silent. He turned me to my back and started kissing my neck. Going up to my jaw and the back of my ears. I whimper, shiver around my body, while he put a couple of fingers in me. I moan.
He: you're dry
She: ehem
That never stopped him though. I never get wet easily. He got down and bit my tits, while giving more pressure on side of me. I was slick and he started to pull out his fingers. In, out, in, out. He made sure to add pressure every time he got in and sucked and bitten my tits, hard. I was so close when he stopped and thrust hard into me. So hard it hurt. It's not my first time, still, he's able to stretch me so much. With not much wetness, it hurts and burns so much more. He takes speed when I'm slicker, that's and ready to come. But he stopped, balls deep in me.
She: No.
I whimper and tremble. He didn't move. Instead, he poured light kisses around my face, his thumb makes a circular motion to my clit. I cry out loud.
She: Please
He's torturing me. Held my orgasm and stop every time I reach my highest peak.
He: Please what Cher?
He pulled out and in at high speed and full force, then stopped. I sigh. Need him to finish me.
She: Please make me come
He: Why do you think you deserve that?
He put another light touch around my clit and moved so slowly. I'm getting wetter every second and he is still holding back.
She: I'm sorry, I really tried to sleep.
He: ehemm.
He knows I lie. I think too much it made me hard to sleep and he hates that. He hates that I argue in my head instead of talking to him. I keep silent. Holding my thoughts, while he holds my orgasm. He moves so slow, so sweet, so good and stops every time I reach my peak. Pour light kisses on my face. I close my eyes and plead. Over and over again. He won't give up. He can hold back so long it hurts my lower abdomen after stretching too long and cannot have my release. He will torture me until I talk to him. I groan when he starts wetting his hand and rubs my backdoor. He put a finger inside, and I reached my peak, again. But he pulled out.
He: mon amour.
And I cry. Tears spilled down my cheeks. He kissed them away.
She: I wonder when you will realize I'm not worth your time and leave me. I'm a mess.
He: we are all children.
He put his fingers in my anal and started to move. Slow and sweet. Light kisses pouring from my face as tears stream down. He picks up speed and gives more pressure.
He: come for me
I explode. His trust getting faster and harder and in my second orgasm, he came.
Sated. I sleep like a baby afterward.
He: I cannot promise you to not leave, but I can promise you to fight for both of us as long as I can.
He whispers when I drift to sleep. I thought that was just a dream. A good one.
1 note · View note
jeserani · 3 days ago
she can’t let him go cause he’s been holding big precious part of her and she scared to let either go. she just need to realize after she let him go, she can build those big precious part of her and become a better person she’d mean to be
1 note · View note
ofparadoxalmind · 5 days ago
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Felt cute
Also celebrating the fact that my book publishes this month!!!!!!!
I’ve gone through literal hell to get here but I’m not letting anything stand in the way of me and my happiness anymore
Tumblr has been an outlet for me for a decade and I can look back and see who I was but also look and see all I hope to become.
The two can coexist. As you heal and reflect, you are also growing- and no one can take that away from you.
Ig: @odemipessu
37 notes · View notes
vividly-creative · 6 days ago
The One in which I’m Doubting Myself
Lately I’ve been creating a lot of stuff, back to back.
I’ve been writing a lot and bringing characters to life. I’ve been working so much on my novel, my word count is getting up, my word document is getting longer and I’ve been receiving positive feedback from my friends.
Still, I feel likeI’m barely making any progress.
I have brought so many ideas to life  and I’m proud of myself and of what I created… but  it feels like it doesn't mean anything.
My portfolio could and should have much more work in it. It feels like I’m behind and I always will be.
No matter how much I create, I constantly feel like I could’ve made more and I need to make more.
I want to have this inhumane amount of art made within a couple of hours. 
The moment I start writing a scene I’m picturing how I want it to sound at the end and I start asking myself if I’ll be able to even finish it. The second I start a new sketch I begin ruminating how it should look and I want to skip the process to finally see the end result.
I have to keep reminding myself that a successful piece of art is the one that makes you proud and allows you to grow as an artist; but that does not mean it will always be satisfying and I get that.
I love to create.
I want to create.
I chose to create.
But it’s hard to enjoy the process sometimes, when you keep telling yourself “This is the time I will finish this novel."
“This is the piece that I will finally send to publishers.” 
“This is the work that I will have hundreds of rejection slips and just that one approved, because it only takes one publisher to say yes.” 
“Today I’ll make the photograph that gets into a calendar.”
“This is the art project that will make people take me seriously.”
“This is the one that will make me an artist.”
It 's exhausting.
3 notes · View notes
jeserani · 6 days ago
It’s hard to describe how I feels when I walk into a room and I know everyone but feels as if no one really knows me.
0 notes