Sandra Cisneros, from Loose Woman: Poems; "I Am on My Way to Oklahoma to Bury the Man I Nearly Left My Husband For"
Xuebing Du
Peter Solarz
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

@theartofmadeline
KIROKAZE
๐ชผ

blake kathryn
almost home
styofa doing anything

pixel skylines

Kiana Khansmith
Claire Keane

Love Begins
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.

shark vs the universe

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Monterey Bay Aquarium
trying on a metaphor
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@aprilkeating
Sandra Cisneros, from Loose Woman: Poems; "I Am on My Way to Oklahoma to Bury the Man I Nearly Left My Husband For"
Firefly Path, Saint Avangeline (ph: Elizabeth Elder)
Istg.
Thatโs it. Thatโs the post.
just a reminder in case your mind is playing tricks on you today, you matter. you're important. you're loved. and your presence on this earth makes a difference whether you see it or not.
Mary Shelley, from her novel titled "Frankenstein," originally published in 1818
I need to start to romanticize life again. I need to read books, write stories, draw creatures, create and create and create. I need to stop in small moments and stare for a while at the most seemingly insignificant things. I need to do things slowly, but also more quickly. I need to learn what passion feels like again. I need to stop feeling like Iโm missing out, and start actually trying to BE. I need to create a routine. I need to meditate every day, and I need to lay in the starfish position every night. I need to get a job and work long hours and come back with ten things to do, and no time to be on my phone and no want to be on my phone. I need to experience more than I think. I need to romanticize life again, and find joy in most moments, and feel the lows less.
my kitty
สแดษชษดส แดสแดแด แดส๊ฑ
i donโt think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought youโd become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
A Woman Reading, Claude Monet. 1872.
instagram | photos are my own, reblogs fine, do not repost/reuse
Franz Kafka, 1912