Two women kissing in nature, by Georges Rochegrosse (1859-1938).
taylor price
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blake kathryn
YOU ARE THE REASON

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★

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Keni
Claire Keane
RMH

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Sade Olutola

#extradirty
will byers stan first human second
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Three Goblin Art
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@halkyone
Two women kissing in nature, by Georges Rochegrosse (1859-1938).
Summer clouds and moon like the Grand Canyon ~ @otsumami10203
I might do an illustration workshop based around hiking/drawing the wild flowers! if that sounds cool tell me where you think it should be https://my.trovatrip.com/public/l/survey/libby-frame
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arpandas_photography_adventure
(by Adrian Enache)
(by kennycerou)
(by Karsten Winegeart)
looking for a friend
i‘m nobodys first choice. instead, i’m everyones last resort. the only thing i‘m good for is being used until i‘m no longer wanted. i‘m the broken toy rotting in the corner of the room; used, replaced and ultimately forgotten about
I’ll forever be the person who says "It’s okay, I understand" even when my heart is literally shattering.
Anders Zorn - Head of a veiled woman (n.d.)
the commodification of friendship is the most annoying thing to come out of the internet in ages. like actually i love to break this to you but you're supposed to help your friends move even if it's hard work. or stay up with them when they're sad even if you're gonna lose sleep. you're supposed to listen to their fears and sorrows even if it means your own mind takes on a little bit of that weight. that's how you know that you care. they will drive you to the airport and then you will make them soup when they're sick. you're supposed to make small sacrifices for them and they are supposed to do that for you. and there's actually gonna be rough patches for both of you where the balance will be uneven and you will still be friends and it will not be unhealthy and they will not be abusive. life is not meant to be an endless prioritization of our own comfort if it was we would literally never get anywhere ever. jesus.
Every woman I have ever loved is still working out how to love herself. Has a closetful of ghosts and has been to a hundred funerals of the women she used to be. Wonders what wounds her mother carries that she will never know about. Hopes that the weight of the world doesn't eventually crush her, that she is strong enough to handle it all. Wishes a day will come when she can put it all down, give her aching shoulders a rest. Wants someone to truly see her and not make a feast of her kindness and dreams. Is forever hiding a secret hunger for what calls to her in the dark. Holds a universe inside her, but has been told to make herself smaller despite the paradox. Praise be that universes are not in the business of listening to anyone but themselves. Every woman I have loved has thought about it. The art of disappearing. To be here one day, and the next, like smoke, simply gone.
- Nikita Gill, Every Woman I Have Ever Loved