This is a new Month to not procrastinate and stay focus on the things that my mind has been sat on. no matter what stops me there will always be another way around my blockage that the devil try to stop me from going forward too. #Motivation#Hope

Your Favorite Rhianna song?

If your only joy comes from antagonizing or one-upping someone else ? that's not happiness, it's toxicity. There?s nothing genuine about happiness built on someone else?s pain. Stalking, harassment, and performative "wins"? they just reveal your emptiness. Genuine happiness never requires someone else to feel small. And when you use your joy, real or fake, to taunt others, you cheapen its worth and yours.

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I was diagnosed with HSV-2 five years ago, and I still can?t stopping a bit of loneliness even when around friends and family. #RandomThoughts

??????? #Style  #Halloween

What candy...?

I had at least 30 kids come by the house last night knocking on the door. How many kids came by for everybody else?

Pick Me: A woman whose values, interests, and choices are disproportionately centered on men and the pursuit of male validation or approval. It's essentially a critique of behavior, often used to describe women who: ? Prioritize a man's opinion/desires over their own or those of other women. ? Constantly seek male attention or validation (sometimes called being a "pick-me"). ? Express anti-feminist or misogynistic views (like "I'm not like other girls") to distinguish themselves or gain favor with men. ? Tear down or judge other women based on standards they believe men find attractive or acceptable. ? Support or uphold patriarchal values, even when it's to their own detriment. In a broader, more academic sense, the concept of androcentrism refers to placing a masculine point of view at the center of one's world view, which could describe the mindset of a male-centered woman. The term highlights the idea that in some social dynamics, a woman's sense of self-worth is tied almost exclusively to her relationship with or approval from men, rather than her own achievements or bonds with other women.

Hope everyone day is going good and have a positive one ? #OpenHeart  #Wind

LETS GO...YOLO And Yes, this is aN ACTUAL SOLO cruise I'm interested in meeting STRANGERS MAKING NEW EXPERIENCES ??????? I NEEDED A DO OVER?? #Dating#Vacation

Well Welcome to Spooky Season! This morning, early and still in the semi-darkness, something very unusual happened. Sitting in my LR relaxing in the easy chair, (3) or (4) separate times, I spotted a small roundish amber light Orb. It appeared in (3) different spots across the room, toward the kitchen. (The first one I saw in the kitchen, through the doorway. Each time I spotted it, it flashed just for a second, (2) or (3) times.) What is an Orb? It is believed to be an active Energy, unexplained. They can appear out of nowhere, usually at night or in the dark. They can be observed in different colors: white, yellow, green, blue, red and orange. Sometimes, black. It might be a Spirit. Who knows? All I know, is it was here this morning in my home and I spotted it several times within about a half hour time. It is definitely some form of Energy. It felt friendly. Maybe it was just a Spirit saying Hello or checking up on me. Yes, this is a True Story! Have you ever seen any type of Energy Orbs? #Halloween

The invitation read casual, bring a chair, bring a blanket. Vivian brought both?and a cautious heart dressed in flannel. The field behind Mae?s place glowed like a low ember?cornstalk silhouettes, a sky stitched with stars, the scent of oak smoke and something sugar-brown toasting on sticks. She felt him before she saw him, the way you feel thunder before rain. Tre arrived late, carrying a bottle and that slow grin, firelight collecting along his jaw like it knew where to land. They fell into step along the fence line, away from the chatter. He offered her the bourbon; she accepted. It went down warm and a little reckless. ?So we keep ending up in the same places,? he said, eyes on the fire, voice on her. ?Or we?ve learned the same map,? she answered, laughing softer than the breeze. The fence was cool under her palms; his shoulder, a comfortable anchor in the dark. Silences turned into invitations. He told her about the song that ruined him in high school and why flannel would always be his weakness. She admitted she judged people by their pie preferences and sometimes talked to her plants. Their confessions weren?t grand?just true enough to unlock something tender. When a spark lifted from the pit and landed on her sleeve, he brushed it away, fingers staying past necessity, warm and certain. She looked up, the world muffled, the night holding its breath. ?Vivian,? he said, testing how her name sounded wrapped in smoke. ?Tre,? she replied, as if it were a secret and a promise. They didn?t kiss. Not yet. They stood where the fire crackled and the distance shrank, letting the wanting get good and ripe. It felt like the edge of a shoreline at night?dark, thrilling, and close enough to hear the waves even if you didn?t step in. When the embers collapsed into a hush of red, they walked back slow, shoulder to shoulder, pretending not to count the steps. ?See you around?? he asked. ?If you can find me,? she said, tucking the blanket tighter, smiling like she already knew he would. #bonfireconfessions #TheVelvetHour

Part I: Sweater Weather & Slow Looks Vivian never meant to notice him like that?Tre, with those quiet eyes and that easy ?after you? smile that lived somewhere between good manners and a dare. The first cool snap arrived on a Tuesday, the kind that makes you fold into a sweater like a secret, and the café smelled like roasted beans and brown sugar. She was just there for a latte and a minute to breathe. Then there he was at the end of the counter, tipping a cap, the grin slow as honey. They kept finding each other after that without trying. Or maybe trying a little. The bookstore on Oak, where she chased the scent of old paper and cinnamon candles and he pretended to compare editions he?d already owned. The Saturday market where she sampled jam and he picked up late peaches like summer refusing to leave. A nod here, a shoulder brush there, fingertips lingering a heartbeat too long when he passed her a napkin. Their small talk was soft and careful?weather, pie, music?yet each word seemed to carry heat, like char under ash. By the third coincidence, they were both in on the joke. ?You following me?? she teased, lips tucked into a smile that could melt a cold front. ?Only if you keep making it this easy,? he said, and the air between them turned tender and taut all at once. At the café window, she felt October sliding into the room?the kind of cool that makes the smallest warmth feel like revelation. Tre leaned close to ask about her book and the world narrowed to the sound of his voice, soft and salt-sweet, like caramel on a biscuit. His hand skimmed the cuff of her sweater, testing the texture like a question. She didn?t pull away; she didn?t answer either. They let the moment stretch, a silken thread, just to see how long it could hold. When she left, he opened the door with that same old-school courtesy, and the wind lifted a curl to his hand as if it belonged there. ?See you around, Vivian,? he murmured, sure of it. She walked off smiling, heat tucked under knit, the taste of cinnamon and possibility on her tongue. If fall was a prelude, then this was the first chord?lingering, promising, perfectly unresolved. Part I: Sweater Weather & Slow Looks Vivian never meant to notice him like that?Tre, with those quiet eyes and that easy ?after you? smile that lived somewhere between good manners and a dare. The first cool snap arrived on a Tuesday, the kind that makes you fold into a sweater like a secret, and the café smelled like roasted beans and brown sugar. She was just there for a latte and a minute to breathe. Then there he was at the end of the counter, tipping a cap, the grin slow as honey. They kept finding each other after that without trying. Or maybe trying a little. The bookstore on Oak, where she chased the scent of old paper and cinnamon candles and he pretended to compare editions he?d already owned. The Saturday market where she sampled jam and he picked up late peaches like summer refusing to leave. A nod here, a shoulder brush there, fingertips lingering a heartbeat too long when he passed her a napkin. Their small talk was soft and careful?weather, pie, music?yet each word seemed to carry heat, like char under ash. By the third coincidence, they were both in on the joke. ?You following me?? she teased, lips tucked into a smile that could melt a cold front. ?Only if you keep making it this easy,? he said, and the air between them turned tender and taut all at once. At the café window, she felt October sliding into the room?the kind of cool that makes the smallest warmth feel like revelation. Tre leaned close to ask about her book and the world narrowed to the sound of his voice, soft and salt-sweet, like caramel on a biscuit. His hand skimmed the cuff of her sweater, testing the texture like a question. She didn?t pull away; she didn?t answer either. They let the moment stretch, a silken thread, just to see how long it could hold. When she left, he opened the door with that same old-school courtesy, and the wind lifted a curl to his hand as if it belonged there. ?See you around, Vivian,? he murmured, sure of it. She walked off smiling, heat tucked under knit, the taste of cinnamon and possibility on her tongue. If fall was a prelude, then this was the first chord?lingering, promising, perfectly unresolved.

Id usally make a post- explaining the situation....but somethimgs are better left unsaid...all in all frightworld amusement park was fun

With Love for all Saints who have assisted us. And today and every day, WE ARE ALL SAINTS HERE ON PS!  ???

Below.....?

It's that time!

Is one enough? Or can you go for a 2nd or 3rd?  #Painting

Live 4 2 day Tomorrow?s not promised Only thing in front of you is 24 hours Fresh out the shower Wrapped in a towel Bright shiney day Makes you feel solar powered Wrote a little checklist As I finished breakfast Packed a little bag & got finished dressing Stocked up on fresh kicks Socks match the mesh tips Lock up express trip To stop up the west end Guess who I seen once I got out the exit ?

Kickin BUTTS & taking names ? ?  I play every night..... What games do you play?

I miss letter writing & mailed letters..... Anyone else.... I rmbr growing up letter writing was LIFE!  RIP my friend Sha - we used to write notes the day b4 and pass them folded up like triangles & passing in the morning or lunch before high school classes... We also used to be given in Foreign language classes Pen Pals to pick from other countries.... Summer camp - after it was over we stayed connected as Pen Pals for many yrs... I cherished letter writing so much that I still have old letters from friends, family and ex-boyfriends... My Filipino ex-bf in high school ran away to Cali & asked me to runaway too - he bought me a gold and diamond watch at 13 - that I STILL have until today - we stayed connected by letters - I'll come back to that story another day....

I will now be listing things that scare me and are scary You hoes Men that like to cum in anything Mice, Snakes, Roaches(especially those flying mfers) 50/50 New Jersey Drivers The open sea Space Cancer Bikes The Dark Being Broke Being homeless Losing any part of my body Pregnancy Getting drugged Murders Fanbases Hell Zombies #HappyHalloween #Halloween

If I don?t have any, this is the least I would expect. Why would i be a stepmom first to other kids if I don?t even have any of my own yet? The bar is in HELL

Drop ur info so we could talk better