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When you left, the worst thing wasn’t the cold in my bed. Neither the heat in my heart that you burned down.

When you left, the worst thing wasn’t the need to hear your voice or to talk to you about what’s going on.

When you left, the worst thing wasn’t crying myself to sleep. Neither the screaming in the middle of the night when I realized you wouldn’t come back.

When you left, the worst thing was losing me. You made it look so easy to leave me. Like I was nothing. Like everything you ever told me was a lie. Like you didn’t need me at all. Like nobody could ever need or love me.

And I think that broke me.

(Just a lot of words. A lot of pointless and beautiful and painful words. Isn’t that what writing is?)

(Always is the cruelest world I know.)

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

I do not know what happened. I was sitting at a Starbucks with a warm cup of hot chocolate. A pair of children made silly faces at me through the window, and I laughed. For a moment. I laughed. I turned my head back to the work in front of me, typing words into another paper for my writing class—a class I loved, for the professor I admired, for the dragging determination that I would continue on, in spite of everything. Certainly, I was miserable, but that was something to be overcome, to fight against; I would make it as long as hope remained. 
—
How was it then, that moments later I became hopeless?
—
I see myself sitting on the train, watching soft night descend on city lights. Watching apartment buildings for glimpses of lives I’d never know, hoping to catch the shadow of some lamp, the face of a curious onlooker, watching me as I watched them. Life, at its purest essence. Humanity has always been the same.

Always. Was it that word that broke me? That sense that everything should go on? Was it my own determination to continue in spite of everything? What was it that struck that fear so deep into my mind? What was it even—but that concept of always—that I feared?

Half an hour later, with hot water streaming down my face, I slipped into the bottom of the bathtub and tried to chase out the thoughts. Head underwater. The sound of artificial rain on my ears. Eyes closed. Breath held.

I’ll know what it’s like—eternity—in a second.

It wasn’t death I was hoping for, it was paradise. It was a glimpse of the divine and a promise of eternal life—everlasting consciousness. I didn’t want to die, you see, I wanted to make certain I would live forever. I wanted to know what my mother felt when I was born, when she almost died, when she heard the voice of god and knew paradise.
I felt my body plead for oxygen. I felt my heart skip a beat. I felt cold darkness echo back to me the same way it did each time I prayed to god and begged for some promise of hope. I felt the unforgiving silence again, and nothing more.
Instinct took control and I lifted my head from the water, gasping at air the way I grasped for hope.
I still don’t know what happened; I don’t know what made me so afraid of dying that I wanted to risk life.
—
I keep telling them I want to be dumb. If I were dumb, I wouldn’t think about it; it wouldn’t bother me. Like a bird I would live and I would die and would care very little for eternity.
—
What I understand of neuroscience and physics, what I know of thermodynamics, makes me think eternal consciousness is impossible.
—
What I know about religion and philosophy is that this is the ultimate question. Or as Camus said: “There is only one really serious philosophical problem and that is suicide. Deciding whether or not life is worth living is to answer the fundamental question in philosophy. All other questions follow from that”
It’s the ultimate question because no one truly knows the answer.
—
Is that what made it happen again? Is that why I had to run away? The deepest and yet most absurd question—is that really what made me leave school for the third time?
I know it’s not of course. It was more than that. It was an inability to keep going, it was a loss of hope and an outpouring of fear. It was everything and nothing.
—
I beg god again, for something, really anything. But like all those days, those endless hours sitting, curled at the bottom of my closet pleading, I meet silence and darkness and emptiness. I meet the very thing I fear, and the thing which has taken over my OCD, and anxiety, and led me to the deepest depression I have ever known. I hope for certainty where I cannot have it.
—
There are two things I know:
1. I do not have any reason to hope for eternal life. Death, like every other thing in this world, seems physical, temporal.
2. Without the hope of eternal consciousness, I have no reason to enjoy living, no reason to hope for anything. Hope, at that point, becomes temporary, and seemingly useless.
—
There is no reason for me to say any of this, of course. I am not asking for anything, not looking for someone to tell me to just have faith, not looking for anyone to tell me not to.
—
My obsessions have fixated on ideas of aging and death. (Time is so short. “It is later than you think.”) I sank into depression. I left school again because I was simply, physically unable to continue on, even though this time I thought I would make it. 
Until that moment, that second on the train watching the world go by I was okay.
Now, I need to know that I will be okay forever—literally forever—or I don’t know if I will ever quite be okay again. 
Without a hope for everything, is there a hope for anything?
—
No, I haven’t given up all hope. I hope for a someday (and for an eternal someday.) I hope to find some sense of spirituality, some presence or peace from some god, some little spark of light in the echoing darkness. I hope. But I do not expect—I do not know.

Hey everyone!
Like a lot of you already know, Tumblr will ban all adult content on the 17th of december, so it will be the end of this blog. But like some of you know, I already opened a new telegram channel, and now a new discord server too.
A lot of you are asking me to create a twitter account but I don’t think that Twitter would be the best place for sharing comics like I do.

telegram channel : https://t.me/furry_gay_comic

discord serveur : https://discord.gg/zNVPSWW

The END?

hello everyone, I think this is it, it’s the end of that blog here because of tumblr, They will remove all NSFW content on 17 dec, so all of my blog of course…

Now you are more than 20 000 followers here and I’m really sad to see all of you go away like that and I would love to find an alternative to this website, I’ve already created a telegram channel but if you have any other alternative you can poke me here via mp or on telegram

My new channel telegram : https://t.me/furry_gay_comics

My telegram : https://t.me/Xarolan

He said the worst thing about a long distance relationship is being left behind every time she has to fly back home. He said leaving is the easier role because you just walk away and go home, but being left behind is a constant reminder she was there. The room smells of her, his clothes she borrowed smell of her, the bathroom has a shampoo or two left behind that bring nothing but pain, there is still her favorite food in the kitchen, food he bought just because she was coming, now food no one will eat. And the first morning after she leaves and you realize she is not by your side anymore when you wake up, he said that is the worst pain he ever knew. 

Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips and then I’ll go. Maybe also one more breakfast, one more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll be full and happy and we can part. But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time. One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest. My hope is if we add up the “one mores”, they will equal a lifetime and I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go. But that’s not real, is it? There are no more one mores.

I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seem endless. And they still are… for you, for me, but not for us. Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart, we grew up. When something breaks, if the pieces are large enough, you can fix it. Unfortunately sometimes things don’t break, they shatter. But when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter. And in those moments, when the pieces of what we were catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it’ll always be. Because it was us. And we were magic. Forever.

Someone Great (2019)
Jenny Young

I booked a flight. Off to Canada on 25th Feb. Scared sh!tless.

But if you leave, you can I’ll remember You, though.. I remember everyone that leaves

It’s about time Hibari to go. Be grateful that he doesn’t bite you to death on the way out.

Τρία πράγματα πρέπει να κάνεις για να βγεις από τη μαυρίλα σου:
Απαλλάξου από την ανάγκη να αρέσεις. Σπάσε τον εθισμό για την γνώμη των άλλων και ζήσε ήσυχος απόλαμβάνοντας τα πάθη σου.

Learn to manage alone in life and never depend on anyone, because even your shadow will leave you when you are in the dark.