@kuzhatv: когда берёшь совсем любую рекламу 😅

КУЖА
КУЖА
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Region: KZ
Thursday 18 June 2026 20:27:59 GMT
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sss_viss
sss_viss :
Села-протекла
2026-06-19 09:55:40
49911
genius.of.bait..last
Гений Байта Last :
Когда берешь совсем любую рекламу:
2026-06-18 20:42:26
48992
fanpoops
WexRayDH :
Oн со своими песнями через несколько лет
2026-06-18 21:43:35
14842
user1526053086179
. :
как вы узнали что у меня месячные
2026-06-19 06:04:41
964
fogich00
kiki :
имба
2026-06-18 21:09:01
3814
feldixxd
солевой :
Always ?
2026-06-19 19:06:00
4
yrata5
yrata :
Я аж себе купить захотел
2026-06-19 07:58:41
3351
nikolixxx0
❔ :
Это я понимаю реклама
2026-06-19 10:14:41
277
gojo_mylove5
Gojo_mylove :
встала-потекло
2026-06-19 10:55:19
494
user5193824918177
🍀 :
Следцщее видео:
2026-06-19 09:53:34
139
nosok_oleg7
Носок Олег :
Рассказал как будто сам использует
2026-06-19 10:37:26
2024
taraedito
aia.r1 :
ева лучше
2026-06-19 04:57:16
260
svo.goida7
deepseek настоящий :
10к часов в рекламах
2026-06-19 04:38:59
60
kexusiks
kexusik :
босс это реклама принесёт нам миллион
2026-06-19 04:25:50
53
doftidu
Желдокораев Серик Куонышович :
я рад что слышал это еще до 100 лайков
2026-06-18 20:47:05
111
where_are_my_chips
where_are_my_chips :
ваши ставки сколько он получит за рекламу
2026-06-18 21:08:18
6943
janetswiy
Janet Swiy :
Чья?😳
2026-06-19 18:28:26
61
oxygens._01
Oxygen. :
Котекс лучше
2026-06-19 13:07:58
198
riviera734
Riviera :
хорошая попытка сестра но я тебе их не куплю
2026-06-19 03:20:16
110
_lasqwx_94
lasqwx :
все мы знаем что либресс лучше
2026-06-19 08:38:25
16
remernber_me
T. :
гениальная реклама
2026-06-19 13:36:25
96
To see more videos from user @kuzhatv, please go to the Tikwm homepage.

Other Videos

You keep bracing for the day he leaves. That is the fear you can name. But sit with this honestly for a moment, because the real loss already started, and it has nothing to do with him walking out the door. It is her. The woman who used to want things out loud. Who had opinions at dinner and a laugh that filled the room. Who made plans that had nothing to do with anyone else's comfort. Somewhere along the line you began trading her away, one small concession at a time, for a house with no arguments in it. A swallowed sentence here. A canceled want there. The quiet built up and you called it maturity. You called it love, even. … No one warns you about the next part. Years from now you will not lie awake mourning the man who went silent beside you. You will mourn the version of yourself you put to sleep to keep him comfortable. The vivid one. The wanting one. The one who was unmistakably alive before she learned that being agreeable was safer than being real. That grief is already running underneath your days. It is in the flatness you cannot explain, the restlessness with no obvious cause. You are not depressed. You are in mourning for someone who is not dead yet. You can still feel her in flashes. A song comes on in the car, and for a few seconds your chest opens and you remember wanting something purely for yourself. Then the light changes, and you fold her back up, and drive home to the life you manage. And that is exactly why this is not hopeless. She is not gone. She is waiting, just under the surface, for one honest moment. Reaching for her again is not a betrayal of your marriage or your family. It is the first true thing you will have done in a long time — and the only version of you worth grieving is the one you still have time to bring back.
You keep bracing for the day he leaves. That is the fear you can name. But sit with this honestly for a moment, because the real loss already started, and it has nothing to do with him walking out the door. It is her. The woman who used to want things out loud. Who had opinions at dinner and a laugh that filled the room. Who made plans that had nothing to do with anyone else's comfort. Somewhere along the line you began trading her away, one small concession at a time, for a house with no arguments in it. A swallowed sentence here. A canceled want there. The quiet built up and you called it maturity. You called it love, even. … No one warns you about the next part. Years from now you will not lie awake mourning the man who went silent beside you. You will mourn the version of yourself you put to sleep to keep him comfortable. The vivid one. The wanting one. The one who was unmistakably alive before she learned that being agreeable was safer than being real. That grief is already running underneath your days. It is in the flatness you cannot explain, the restlessness with no obvious cause. You are not depressed. You are in mourning for someone who is not dead yet. You can still feel her in flashes. A song comes on in the car, and for a few seconds your chest opens and you remember wanting something purely for yourself. Then the light changes, and you fold her back up, and drive home to the life you manage. And that is exactly why this is not hopeless. She is not gone. She is waiting, just under the surface, for one honest moment. Reaching for her again is not a betrayal of your marriage or your family. It is the first true thing you will have done in a long time — and the only version of you worth grieving is the one you still have time to bring back.

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