For the adults who drink wine of Newgrounds,

one of my friend’s grandma drinks wine ice cold. Does anyone else do this?

Unless you’re fucking invincible *insert invincible theme here*

Having a coffee late at night will go through you like a fucking bullet train, I drank some because I wanted to be fucking productive and now I’m near tears on the toilet.

CONTENT WARNING: MENTIONS OF NAUSEA, AND POSSIBLE EATING DISORDER MENTION

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU GET TRIGGERED FROM THAT, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF PLZ <3

So basically in my past I had a bad relationship with food because I had toxic friends who nearly drove me to an eating disorder back when I was cis. And now, taking a small bite of any sort of food made my body feel physically repulsed. I have a good body image and all of that, it’s literally my body making me feel like throwing up, doesn’t matter if it’s healthy or something from the microwave, my body will make me feel nauseous. I dunno what’s happening because I FUCKING LOVE FOOD! So I don’t know why my body is attempting to reject it.

I started preferring the name Harvey. So I went to edit my account here, and it gave me an error that said I’m too young to have a profile. I’m fourteen, pretty sure I’m old enough. And it won’t let me change my name.

if you could help me out, it would be appreciated

It’s Pico day, the game traumatized me as a small child, but I miss it.

I love my dog, his name is Falcore (like the never ending story) He is a small mutt and he is around five years old. He gets grumpier with age, every day, I see his movements slowing and he gets shaky. He has something glazing over his eyes, he’s getting groomed, I can tell his vision’s fading. It’s sad.

Every day forward, we are doing division flash cards. Fourth grade for me was when the pandemic hit, I couldn’t really pay attention, the only times or division tables I know are zero, ones, twos, threes (sorta), fours, fives, sevens, tens, and elevens. Thankfully, as I enter high school, my dad got me dollar tree division flash cards, and every day forward five minutes, I try to say the answer, I know, I’m dumb. Thanks to my dad for trying to make me smarter.