Zingo
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zingo12.bsky.social
Zingo
@zingo12.bsky.social
She/they, aussie, uni student, writer, chronic crocheter and beginner knitter, cat mum to an orange gremlin.

Minors DNI
We can interact over chain names 😂
November 13, 2025 at 12:21 PM
I said hi and then realised you were in a different server cause I forgot that was a thing 😂
November 8, 2025 at 10:49 AM
Timezones suck 😂 I be sprinting with ghosts
November 8, 2025 at 9:30 AM
Eying is the British spelling iirc. Idk man there's just something not right about it 😅
August 31, 2025 at 11:19 PM
Don't worry, one of Brandon Sanderson's book had two different spellings of eyeing. Eying and eyeing (which are apparently both correct but just looking at eying makes me want to gauge my own eyes out tyvm)
August 31, 2025 at 11:01 PM
COVID is such a fucking bitch. Hope the fog lifts and you start to feel better soon ❤️
August 31, 2025 at 10:57 PM
(idk how to tag omg help) #writing #grief #loss #rare-disease
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
But she exceeded all expectations by living sixteen years. She was healthy for the majority of those years and most of all: she was happy.

I love you, Sarebear. Keeping laughing up there, won't you?
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
Well if you made it to the end thanks for reading! My sister had rare genetic disease called Pancreatic Agenesis. All she was missing was a single gene and because of that she was born without a pancreas and a gallbladder along with a plethora of intestinal and endocrine issues.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepared me for death. But it had to have arrived eventually. And no matter how it would have come. No matter how slow or how quick. I would have never been prepared any way.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepared me for death at 23-years-old, and even though my sister was never even meant to live past a week old, she made it 16 years, a medical miracle that once was and still is.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepares you for the aftermath, you see the quick version of it in movies and shows. But you don't see the financial struggle. You don't understand the decisions that have to be made. What songs should be played, compiling photos, writing an eulogy.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
Except I wasn't. I am but 23. No job and studying for a future that's already so unknown.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
I knew I would one day I would attend her funeral, but never so soon. 16 years wasn't enough. I should have had kids, I should have been married, I should have been able to support my mother more, take control of the situation.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
Why are they gifting me what is dying as soon as it was cut from the stem and apologising for a death that wasn't their fault?

No one prepares you, and here I was, cocky and assure that I would be prepared.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
I began to question why people send flowers as condolences. Why are they reminding me that all things die as I watch the flowers begin to droop, their petals shrivel, their colours fade.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepares you for when you come home and you scrub that room clean until your nostrils burn with bleach and your stomach contains nothing but acid and grief.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
You aren't prepared for it. You don't know what to do. You cry. You tremble. You shower and scrub your skin raw; now that part you've read in books, and now you understand why its done. It's not to remove the memory, it's to remove the pain, the agony, to remove what cannot be undone.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepares you for the first night, how you see her constantly. Over and over again, her already pale skin this time pale with lack of life.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepares you for the smell. For when your sister throws up the contents of her bowels as she drowns from within, as you feel underneath her nose for her breath, as your father does CPR, as he screams for help; no one prepares you.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM
No one prepares you for the silence that clings to the paint and slithers into the crevices of laughter. There is laughter, but there's a note missing, a chord that will never strike again.
August 28, 2025 at 3:38 AM