#youth #MentalHealth #MentalHealthMatters #MentalWellness #unhappiness #global https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0327858 Whoever is out there, you are NOT alone. Stay strong by doing stuff YOU REALLY LOVE ignoring what the others tell you. YOU live YOUR OWN LIFE, not the others...

sportsbitch is officially sentenced to be executed by live firing squad on stream for faking orgasms

I can feel my liver! Never mix drinks. I think more came out than stayed in. I need the day to recover, someone be my bitch and grab me coffee!

https://www.wikihow.com/Live-on-the-Street

https://www.jrpiercefamilyfarm.com/blog-1/2019/11/11/14-tips-for-preventing-frozen-livestock-water-this-winter

I live in my own Heaven. Comment and donate below if you want to meet your Mashiach. No Mormons or atheists. You people are just weird!

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

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.

Do you think [LiveFreeOrDie] will post again?

Pizza delivery drivers and gynecologists are the only trades I know that can scrape cheese off the sides for that quick snack.