sweet love, my labour @aangelhare - Tumblr Blog

This is all important to me. All of it. You—and you, and you. I love you.

I’d really like to write about Fyodor again. I mean fanfiction. But the paragraphs upon paragraphs in my notes are too biased for social viewing. There’s something to be addressed when I write of him because my perception is the same color as my love — my general love for life and the mundane. Can you imagine this is what I’m talking about on a Tuesday night? In bed facing the wall, dreaming of tomorrow. I’d like to try blending lemons with condensed milk — I just realized to myself I don’t have condensed milk. That’s alright. All one’s needs is in one’s precious local store. It’s not too far. I’ll take a trip there in the morning.

#so I’m not caught up in the blazing afternoon heat

Cleaned my room, the air feels fresher. Getting into bed and noticing the webs at the ceiling corners. My walls are white and I like them as so. There’s no one to report to on nights like this. Where you realize you still have much to clean.

#I’m saying laundry and whatnot

Answers and questions. I like answers. But not everyone likes answering. That’s okay. I just wish there was a kinder way to go about things. All we need is a return to sweetness and decency. Putting my palm to my face, touching the dewy skin there. I think I am too involved in decadence.

Trying to think of what kind of iced latte I would enjoy tomorrow. Spanish latte? Dark mocha? Americano? I-I-I—am enjoying myself too much with this concept of treating the tomorrow me like a close friend. I just want whatever’s best for you. Would you tell me if you like your coffee tomorrow? Tell me how you’ll have it?