fall, autumn, wind.
there's something poetic about a wounded child who's not been healed, eventhough they're trying their best to be okay. the wounds are my words, and the scars are my stories.
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sptmbr_y
Aug 22, 2026 04:06AM
good day, falls! it's been a while, since i last updated TAWCS and i couldn't open my account, up until now. i just want to inform my falls that TAWCS have reached 1.05k reads, today. i appreciate to...View all Conversations
Story by sptmbr_y
The Apartment We Can't Share
Being disowned is something that we don't want to make fun of. It is a brutal matter that is unfortunate for...