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Recent Statuses

18 days ago
Current We're fucking cooked, dudes.
1 like
26 days ago
Moving multiple states away from my home town tomorrow, and it's all sinking in. Holy shit.
12 likes
2 mos ago
Beer is liquid bread. Pop-tarts are ravioli. Corn dogs are Popsicles. I will not be explaining.
4 likes
3 mos ago
Having a panic attack? Try shaking your ass to the Mama Mia soundtrack instead.
6 likes
5 mos ago
Even as a waitress, I'm tired of the excessive tipping culture. Just please remember your servers make below average federal minimum wage. If service is shit, service is shit though.
10 likes

Bio





Haley ★ 24 ★ Taurus ★ EST ★ Casual Level Group Writer


Welcome fellow writer. I go by many names, but you can call me Haley or pretty much anything else. I stick to causal level groups here on the forum. I have a soft spot for thunderstorms, dark humor, strong coffee, animals, pretty words, feminine rage, mythologies, and all things that go 'bump' in the night. I've lived in the same small southern Appalachian town my whole life, and aim to travel one day. I'm open to the occasional random conversation, but please do not message me asking to write one-on-one; it's simply not something I do these days.

Most Recent Posts



Banned because your avatar looks like something I'd probably see during a bad trip.
I like my sweet tea with lemon.
My baby Lilly. <3 She's a pit mix, and just turned a year old about a week ago.


I threw the flower petals away today.

You never knew about them, but I kept them all in a jar on the top shelf of my old closet at my mother's place.

You used to joke an laugh every time you brought over a bundle - "why do I get these for you? They just die anyway?" And you were right.

But I saved the petals. Each and everyone, every single time.

I thought that we could use them on our wedding day. Give them to the flower girl and watch as she scattered memories of our love story down the isle, leading us all to one of the greatest chapters.

Now they're in the trash.

I picked each of them out one by one, replaying a memory every time I pulled another one from their safety.

The river, the lake, the beach, the hillside and the stars. Your eyes, laugh, and the freckles on your shoulders. Your brothers birthday, your mothers favorite song.

I forgot them all by the time I reached the bottom of the jar. I watched them each fall into the trash, right along with myself and all of the other broken things you don't want anymore. With each petal, I let more and more fade with them.

I threw away the flower petals today.

I finally let you go.
My relationship with my mother is a complicated one; a double edge sword forced into my hands that has always been to much for me to carry.

Caught somewhere between friend and foe, daughter and mother, friend and parent, dark and light, trauma and healing. The past and the present, both to scared to look towards the future.

I look at my mother and I see a girl - a seven year old with blond hair, blue eyes and pigtails. A little girl who never wanted anything but to be loved. A child who's innocence was taken to soon.

I look at my mother and I see a woman. A woman I helped raise. A woman who refuses to accept accountability and instead wallows in her own pity.

My relationship with my mother is a double edge sword; Caught somewhere between love and hate.

A constant reminder of everything I wish to be, and everything I should never become.
I'm a Taurus sun, with a Leo moon and rising.

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