🍌
1 banana, a few spoons of peanut butter, some ice, and milk. Fucking delicious
recommendation image
Mar 27, 2025

Comments (0)

Make an account to reply.

No comments yet

Related Recs

🍌
yummy. i might be lactose intolerant but no one, not even my own health, can stop me from enjoying a good banana milkshake trying to add to the banana discourse….
Feb 11, 2025
πŸ’
Bananas, peanut butter & sometimes chocolate. Smoothies, froyo, pancakes, etc.
Apr 3, 2024

Top Recs from @winston

πŸ™
AAAHHHH I'm learning CSS and HTML to design my own webpage (I'm also using sites like Caard and StrawPage) because I am obsessive with customization and journaling. I have a crippling Instagram addiction but I hate the app. This app seems more my style πŸ‘€
Feb 8, 2025
recommendation image
🦴
I've never touched makeup before but I have this eye pencil thing and decided to doodle on myself. I like it.
Mar 14, 2025
πŸͺ¦
I've deleted Instagram. I'm stretching my ears. I'm making video diaries again. I write for myself only. I'm secluded, quiet, I'm grieving, I'm burying myself and I am being buried and I am attending the funeral. I'm alone in all of this. It wasn't a new year resolution that led me here. It wasn't therapy or a fortune cookie or anything romantic. But I realize your story only matters if you plan on telling it to someone. Maybe as a response to something, "what the fuck is wrong with you?", maybe an intimate secret, maybe a drunken ramble. I'm done telling stories. I've been alone for forever. Occasionally someone will drift too close, and I think maybe this time, maybe, maybe... And I'm left scarred, or left quietly, but always left. Of course I have things to reflect on and things to take accountability for. But I'll be damned if I present my isolation as pure, as if I am a martyr. No, this is not for everyone's safety or my own digestibility. I am bringing the chisel down in sharp downward motions against myself again and again and and I will carve something new from this stone tomb. I'll never be David. I'll never be Michelangelo. But I can be something more than stone. I am moving on. I don't know to where or to what end. It doesn't matter. Very little does, now. Maybe it always had such little meaning and I was just too close, to desperate, to see that. I wanted so badly to mean something. Even if it was just to be grieved. No one will miss me, now, as it's always been. But I also don't miss me. Moving on.
Mar 26, 2025