Baby Megumi ๐ฎโ๐จ
Baby megumi ๐ฎโ๐จ
I'm really just smitten with baby megumi, and I know his papa is, too. he was probably born with a head of thick, black hair; downy soft with that smidgen of baby curl, a lock of which his mother presses between the pages of his baby book upon his first haircut. he's got bright, wondrous eyes that take in his world as if it's not the first time he's been here; he's got an air of bemused intelligence, keen and sharp and yet completely jaded in an old soul kind of way. he doesn't cry much. he's a good natured baby with a genuine smile that lights up his cherub face when his momma tickles his feet, and he sleeps through the night like a pro from a very young age. he plays with his hands a lot, the way babies do. focused on his tiny fists and the way his fingers unfurl and seem to get stuck in his mouth when he puts them in there. he's more likely to get upset when there's too much noise or other commotion. his favorite place to hang out is in the safety of his papa's arms.
he hits a lot of his milestones early- sitting up, walking, eating solid foods. it takes him a little longer than average to talk, but when he does, he's stringing together simple sentences and you have no doubt that he understands what the adults around him are saying.
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gojo doesnโt know how to love
when you grew up as a lonely uncool girl it will never stop haunting you by the way. you will meet a cool person at a bar or the train station or at a friend's party and you can wear your most stylish outfit and striking eye makeup and you will swear that they can see through all of the facade and see the lonely terribly insecure teenage girl you used to be who desperately wanted to connect and you will swear that they know that there is like an insurmountable gap between you. this will happen forever
โi hate my siblingsโ rip to you but i would kill and die for my brother
thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.
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