Something tells me the next album Berenika will release is going to be incredible 🥰 . This is the third banger they recently released and I'm already obsessed with all 3 of them 🤩

We’re using excuses for our bad luck! Becoming strangers to ourselves. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvGwm8CbX80&list=RDlvGwm8CbX80&start_radio=1

It seems a shadow of misfortune follows me. I've come to expect it: a fleeting moment of light is always chased away by a familiar storm, pulling me back under with brutal force. What truly unnerves me is the silence within. The emotional echo of these disasters has faded to nothing. I am a dry well—events that should summon a flood of tears now barely register. Is this resilience, or is it erosion? My psyche, to save itself, seems to have severed the wires, leaving me feeling like an spectator in my own tragicomedy, muttering, 'This can't be real.' I observe my life as through a thick, silent pane of glass. The impact is muted, the meaning distant. I am a curious stranger to my own apathy, asking, 'What happens when you simply have nothing left to feel?' Is this emptiness making me stronger, or is it the void before the collapse? I built these walls stone by stone for protection, but now they encircle me. They keep the world's anguish out. The question is no longer about weathering the storm, but whether I am fortified within a sanctuary, or entombed within a cell of my own making.

Quick poll for the feed which is more dangerous? 1: The UK 2: Europe 3: A War Zone 4 An American Campus

listening to a banger rip in piss bozo

Your posts are not unlike your lower intestine. Stinky and loaded with danger!

https://youtu.be/Fx2FIjNznrE?si=mvMpFPQ1UBfO9VUR This song plays in my head when i see that hot coworker walking up to talk to me. "Oh my my, danger danger"

The Pulse That Outlives Me Since I was small, my hands have itched for the weight of something new, the warm breath of an idea still wet from birth. While others chased nights strung with music and lights, I chased the hum beneath my ribs— that low, holy vibration that says: Make. Make. Make. I am not afraid of death— only of silence, of the stillness that comes when the last word dries, when the last color fades from my palette. Some people fear missing the party. I fear missing the next perfect shiver of creation, the one that seizes my spine like lightning, the one that says: Here. This is yours. Make it real before it slips away forever. Even as a child, I knew my bones would be dust one day. But a poem— a song, a shadow on film, a brushstroke on canvas— that could outlive me. That could keep my voice whispering in the ears of strangers long after my name is forgotten. So I make. I bleed ink. I sweat pigment. I dream in shapes and sounds. Every piece is a fragment of the monument I am building to outlast my pulse. And when I am gone, let them find my works scattered like constellations— each one a flare I sent into the dark, each one still burning, still warm, still breathing my name. https://www.blogger.com/u/7/blog/post/edit/7919007891465025240/49843031849199149

Millions of Americans warned to stay out of the sun in 8 states The National Weather Service (NWS) has issued Heat Advisories and Extreme Heat Warnings for parts of Arizona, Nevada, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, California, Texas, and Oklahoma as a dangerous heat wave persists through the weekend and into next week. https://www.msn.com/en-us/weather/topstories/millions-of-americans-warned-to-stay-out-of-the-sun-in-8-states/ar-AA1KfPrb?ocid=msedgntp&pc=HCTS&cvid=68993ffdacef474ab2c026cc8cbd1204&ei=58

They might've overplayed the dangers of quicksand back in the day, but not sinkholes. If you live or have ever lived there, they happen.