Apologies if anyone has already posted this.

Honestly I think I have deep commitment issues that I frame as independence :D I would love to find someone special to spend the rest of my life with but my fear of getting hurt or having my life change in scary new ways makes me run screaming when anyone so much as says hello to me. I’ve never fallen completely,…

I’ve got back into cross-stitch to try and deal with work anxiety - the repetition soothes me and counting stitches takes my mind off things a little.

I feel you. I’m 30 in six weeks and live in a small rural area and the pool is... not great. I will keep my fingers crossed for you all the same.

We already know each other socially so at least I wasn’t going in entirely blind but I lay awake half the night with nerves all the same because aaaaaaagh. Aaaaagh. No smooching yet but I promise if it occurs I will come back to SNS all ‘I KISSED SOMEONE ON THE MOUTH, CONGRATULATE ME’.

He is kind to dogs and gives old people his train seat so I am hoping I have found a good egg and even if it doesn’t come to anything, I think I will make a good pal out of it *crosses fingers*

Oh God, same. He must think I blow hot and cold too because my shyness means that sometimes I don’t make eye contact and then sometimes I just do loud, blurty talking.

I’m almost certainly going to fuck everything up because I am a legitimate nightmare but I suppose it’s all life experience.

I’m doing some art right now to help my ol’ brain. It’s going terribly but my anxiety has stopped me from starting *anything* lately so I am just concentrating on putting pen to paper.

Evening all! I mentioned a few months back that someone had asked me out and I’d said ‘Not yet’ because I was dealing with a breakup. The last few months have been incredibly confusing and I’ve felt he was blowing hot and cold constantly and naturally the moment I decide that fuck it, I am done being messed around, he…

I think about this sketch every time I go to the toilet in the night.

It’s so scary. Her only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It really shocked me to realise she was my age. There’s seldom a ‘good’ age to die (and certainly no good age to be murdered) but she was so young and she had so much ahead of her.

Every detail that has come out in this case has been an undiluted nightmare. This murdering shithead, my God.

I honestly think I would ruin a picture of a sloth by being in it. I can’t compete with a sloth.

Please enjoy this fruit bat eating a nanner.

This one brought me to tears:

This is one of the reasons I get so angry at people who insist that social media is unambiguously evil and/or a waste of time. I have been disabled for fifteen years and I am often too ill to leave my house or even to have anyone over to see me. Even talking on the phone wears me out. Stuff like Facebook is a window…

I sent my friend a journal with that excerpt on the front for her birthday - she is a redhead who has had a hellish few years but has a talent for resurrection so I hoped it would inspire her to keep on rising. The poet who latches on to my soul like that is ee cummings. ‘For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s…

Yep yep yep. A while ago I described my narcissist mother to someone as ‘[...] basically like if one of your parents was Donald Trump’.