"One Might Take The Tip Of The Pencil And Magnify It. One Reaches The Point Where A Stunning Realization

To all my darlings, and the ones I'll never know.

By @themararosa on twitter

As far as animals to be afraid of, deer rank pretty low. From afar, a deer is harmless certainly. Docile, wide eyes, silent staring before they bound away. But if you’ve ever been up close, that likely means you’ve found one trapped. Wounded maybe. Only then will you realize what fear does to a prey animal. If you wander too near, the acrid smell of desperation and deadly will to live is pungent in each flare of its nostrils. Then all of a sudden that deer seems much bigger, and fiercer, and you really ought to back away, but your brain works slower than its instincts, and you’re about to discover that hooves are like rocks and like knives, and those legs are longer and your head is closer than you would ever like. And for a split second, you, apex predator, will understand prey-fear.

Who's your top comfort character right now?

I've been rewatching the original star wars trilogy, so right now, Luke Skywalker ❤️😍🥰

There are soft things in the world my child;

petals to soothe your thorn-scratched hands.

Warm houses, while the wind whips wild,

and friends who leap at your command.

enjoy my dog painting…

Winterreise

etchings on zinc, 40 x 30 cm inkenstabell.com

Death Anxiety, or Memento Mori

Is this not all our lives? We spend this moment in the sunlight being afraid, and trying not to be, and trying to make up for the fear when it never leaves. I scramble, try to scratch my name in the Earth before She takes me back. Remember, remember. One day, my name will be spoken for the last time. If I am lucky, it will be by someone who never knew me. ‘Til then, I know what will happen when I die. The ones who loved me will miss me. They will speak my name. Tears will wet their eyes as they do, and some will blink them away like acid rain. I know. Silently they will scream, and rasp against the ache in their throat and the pit in their gut. No matter how ready the dead were to die. No platitudes will dull the scraping of our souls into raw piles of nerves. Nor should it. Remember, remember. Cry. Cry past the ache in your throat. Knees in the dirt; face in the sun and remember. Let your body shake. Let the hurt flow past the scars in your soul. Let it sting. Hold fast to the Earth, lest the grief swallow you whole. Anchored while you weather the storm. And when you emerge, sail on - and ever remember your death.

I never before felt this ache in my chest

when the lover on screen was found broken and dead.

But now

it's you. And it's me

in the story.

And when looking for death, there's no need to hurry.

My heart blocks my throat

I don't know what to do

Now the survivor is me

and the dead one is you.