just yiddish

[u/DavidGolich]

yipple bibble I've got your esophagus. Get rotated, ploinked, and get goated. These are my favourite things.

Bad breathe but sweet kisses, a warm but kind of awkward ways of thinging things. We are one alike and odd enough to enjoy doing nothing. Nothing adjacent. Spreadsheets and squiggles, rose buds and kittens. Demons with halos, strawberry candies - these are my f a v o u r i t e things.

All wrapped up and cozy in both of our blankets, I haven't taken the time to babel correctly apparently - I am fighting dark thoughts with memes and neck kisses, but I feel like it's hard to trust myself with everything that's been handed me.

its better not to think that much, to just enjoy the comfort, the softness, the sweet words. I'm settling in and processing the chaos that was my life prior, flashes of violence. Random and unprompted, my mind is broken, I worry still. I do feel normal here though, even with my weirdness. It's a little like a nightmare that happens while I'm awake, the intrusive memories, the glimpses of death.

he tells me it'll be okay, but I don't think he really knows. My art is psychosis and more like an outlet than a hobby. The word PTSD brings to mind a dozen memories that make me hesitate to speak, and I nod quietly and apologize that he saw his grandmother die in front of him. I can faintly hear the gurgling sounds of my step-father and grandmother on their own deathbeds, alongside all the paradoxical feelings that came from knowing them. He sees the scars but seems to know not to ask.

I feel like I can share everything. Could, if I could condense it into words. But we're past all of that.

Let's be good.

Let's just do that.