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Aug 2020 · 95
𝐼𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒶𝓈
jǫrð Aug 2020
𝓟𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓼
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼
𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮
jǫrð Aug 2020
𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓻𝓶𝓼
𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮
𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓪
Jul 2020 · 95
S̶t̶o̶p̶
jǫrð Jul 2020
░Y░o░u░r░ ░t░o░n░g░u░e░'░s░ ░a░ ░n░o░o░s░e░
░A░n░d░ ░I░ ░h░u░n░g░ ░o░n░ ░e░v░e░r░y░ ░w░o░r░d░.░
jǫrð Jul 2020
𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓵
𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝔀𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮
𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮
𝓦𝓪𝓼 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮.
jǫrð May 2019
𝕴 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍
𝕿𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆
𝕾𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖐𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝕾𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍
𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉
𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈, 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖗

𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖎𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖊
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓'𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖞 𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖊
& 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌
The History:

My mother was a golden goddess in her mind. She would bring me to the beach early in the morning to play in the sand and surf. I remember many times being overtaken by a wave and coming out with an incredible burning in all of my head holes. Though we grew apart, the ocean is deep in my heart.
jǫrð Apr 2019
𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦
𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤
𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯
The History:
I just signed the lease to my first place with the help of a couple angels. Moving always gives me a sense of dread. I guess it's the unknown, the wild, the lack of control that scares me the most. Alas, I am optimistic-ish.
jǫrð Apr 2019
░B░l░a░r░i░n░g░,░ ░s░e░t░t░i░n░g░ ░s░u░n░

░l░i░g░h░t░,░ ░s░e░t░s░ ░a░b░l░a░z░e░ ░t░h░e░ ░t░r░e░e░s░,░ ░I░

░P░u░t░ ░j░a░z░z░ ░o░n░ ░t░h░e░ ░b░r░e░e░z░e░
The History:

Longleaf Pine Preserve

Maria - Dave Brubeck

4/5/2019 5:42 PM
jǫrð Apr 2019
𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓹
𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼
𝓐 𝓱𝓪𝔃𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽
𝓐 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽
𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼,  𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓮
𝓢𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔃 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮
𝓐 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘
𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮
𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭
The History:
A dream I had that reminds me of a Thomas Kinkade painting;
You were within my sight. A nocturne energy hung, as if we had met early on a brisk dewed morning. There was nothing beyond the walls but blue skies and cumulus clouds. Pocket realities.
jǫrð Mar 2019
ɹǝʌǝɹoɟ ʇɹɐd∀
ǝɯ ʞɔıd uɐɔ noʎ 'ǝǝɹʇ ʇınɹɟ ∀
ɥʇɐǝuǝq ǝɯ ʎɹnᙠ
The History:
Unconditional love and Forgivness are my driving principles in this world. People seek comfort and familiarity when they are struggling. They return to their past and try to reconcile. I remind those who've hurt me that they're human, capable of making mistakes and moving past them. Even the most heinous criminals deserve a little tenderness. I live with the pain every day but they don't have to know that. Begging the question, Am I protecting them or myself?
Mar 2019 · 1.0k
𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼
jǫrð Mar 2019
𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲
ℑ𝔫 𝔞 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢
𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩
The History: We were young, and we took chances. You made the solitary places home.
jǫrð Mar 2019
"𝑩𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍;" 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔,
"𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚." 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅
𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒚.
The History: You gave me my first tattoo. I had confidence in you. You started on the second, I had moved reflexively. You had said "Be Careful, Not Sorry." when I apologized.
; then proceeded to tattoo the wrong markings on my Shrike, turning her into a murderous Chickadee. Ill give credit where it's due, I changed the design last minute and the stencil didn't have the shading or markings included. Alanis Morissette's 'Ironic' played on in my head for weeks.
jǫrð Mar 2019
ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔠𝔲𝔟𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢
𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢
ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡
𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢
𝔐𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔶
𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔬
ℑ 𝔫𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔬
𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰
𝔗𝔦𝔩' 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔟𝔶
𝔖𝔬 𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱
𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡
The History: My working environment for the past 2 years has changd my perception of the world exponentially. Perception is as powerful as Suggestion.
Jun 2017 · 1.9k
𝓡𝓮𝓭
jǫrð Jun 2017
𝔜𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔢
𝔉𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡
𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫
𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔢𝔭𝔱, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱
𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔢
𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔥 𝔰𝔬 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫
The History: His hair as he aged became a rusty auburn. In his youth, I'd call it a golden strawberry. That was what I fell for. When the bullies came, I put myself on the front lines. Almost like fighting for America: bitter when it sinks in that the recruiter gets paid to lie.
jǫrð May 2017
ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢
𝔖𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰
𝔄 𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔟
𝔒𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔣
𝔒𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢
ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨
𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶
ℭ𝔶𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫
The History: I wanted a good, but cheap Moscato. You bought a couple that left a dryness in my throat before we found the one. Another February rolled around, and for my birthday you bought it. We used to get a bottle, go down to the beach and sit on the lifeguard tower with some of my homemade alfredo. That bottle left with me, if I remember correctly.
jǫrð Dec 2015
ℭ𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰
𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔯𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔰
𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲

ℑ𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢
ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔡, 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯
𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔶𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔯
The History: You said your Uncle owned an island in the Halifax, so we went camping. You stood outside the canoe in your shoes and pushed me the entire way there, I thought you were my Atlas, but alas, you tipped the canoe.

— The End —