☘️ juni-personal ☘️
☘️ juni-personal ☘️
CaramelJuni
A butterfly net around the echoes and wisps of my consciousness as it swirls, ponders, rages, and floats around.
Latest Posts
(image courtesy of avogado6) i don't particularly have much of... well, anything, tonight. to contribute, reflect on, build upon to coalesce in some therapeutically satisfying and well-rounded conclusion. a "lesson learnt", or some...
(image courtesy of Homutan) as my first full day here draws to a close, i did not expect the medical curtains of my room to swing shut to hide a cascade of sudden tears. not tears of fear, exactly; although a fear of the future and all...
(original image source unknown) Soundtrack: ANOTHER DREAM (Yume Nikki OST) this will be a shorter entry. but one that marks the beginning of what i'm collating into my collection of daily recovery posts. a collection that i aim to add to...
(image courtesy of Suika Litchi) life is strange, each day spent pacing this quiet anteroom. my footsteps echo and bounce off the walls around me, as regular and as plodding as my still-beating heart. even as we both tire further, driven...
(image credit of @john___M__) From Bearblog Carnival February 2026: Q: Are you ever bored, what do you do when you are feeling bored or are we even capable of feeling bored in this age of limitless digital entertainment? whoaaaah, boy....
i wrote this whilst responding to one of my dearest friends on signal; an activity that, with the state i've found myself in, is one that i struggle sometimes to even muster up the strength to do. to claw my way up the walls of...
soundtrack: 'Fractals of Ruin' by Apocryphos & Penumbral Aethyr. Heard on The Dark Zone you used to be the golden child. the prodigy, the bookworm, the bright one. resilient one. the one you didn't have to worry about. "she'll be right"...
A hypocenter or hypocentre, also called ground zero or surface zero, is the point on the Earth's surface directly below a nuclear explosion, meteor air burst, or other mid-air explosion. gazing up from ground zero. the earth beneath me...
i've fallen into a paralysing habit of jotting down, sitting on and ultimately hoarding a series of my past thoughts. thoughts that bubble to the surface and gnaw at my consciousness, mostly when i'm out and about, that i mentally...
the rolling tide has crept in, and out forth, and back, seventeen times. ~ seventeen times, since i have last drawn my fingers across the bubbling froth it carries and dared dip them beneath, to carve sweet nothings into the soft sand...
tonight, i managed to sit down for over an hour, and watch 4 episodes of anime with my brother. yes, a truly minumental (i'm going to keep that typo, i feel it quite perfectly encapsulates the ridiculousness of both that statement, and...
at long, long last. the cry bursts out, gasping, a rush of trapped air flooding from the back of the chamber. . .. ... swirling, rushing, clawing it's way down the hallway. . her fingers, clawed paintbrushes that gush red from nails worn...
I hated these journals [that I used to write], or at least I hated reading them. I hated the incessant patter of my own anxious mind... a mind that was always behind deadline, always living in a kind of muffled, abject terror; a mind...
when i collapsed onto the couch next to my mum this afternoon—after having spent the past hour and a half frantically occupying myself with whatever job, errand or "see-and-do" that my addled brain could conjure up for me—i think we both...
well, what a week. a flurry of work, wayward roadtrip adventures and antics, and above all, wonderful encounters with whimsical, wise and wacky folk at BSides... i truly couldn't ask for much more. the kindness, acceptance and generosity...