taylor price
sheepfilms
$LAYYYTER
roma★
almost home
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
titsay
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
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Jules of Nature
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
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pixel skylines
ellievsbear
🪼
official daine visual archive
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from China
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seen from Malaysia
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@is-not-actually-artistic
i know more kids abused by their families
than kids who love their moms
i see more scars
than i do empty wrists
and when my friends cry
i still can’t find the words
to comfort
them
still can’t stop
collapsing
asking
again
for
help.
We’re studying eating disorders in Psych.
My conclusion: Get it together hypothalamus, you piece of shit
but i followed your rules
too well
lived
every day
as though it would be my last
as thought
i could never leave a mistake unfixed
but now
there is nothing
left
to hold me here
tips/resources 4 writing muslim characters when ur not muslim?
This is the result of us mods passing things back and forth and here is a list of a few tips we’ve come up with to help you guys out!
Keep reading
if you have to say you’re the least judgmental person i’ll ever meet
chances are
you’re not
my little sister is crying
i turn up my music
so that i cannot hear why.
This is the greatest progression of events I have ever read, where’s my historical gay romance novel about this
KING JAMES, CAN YOU CHILL?
Local King Cannot Stop Promoting His Boyfriend
where’s the lush period drama about this series of events?
fun thing about king James, this guy was fairly public about his bf (more public than what was acceptable). He threw lots of extravagant parties with his man on his arm. It pissed off the church obviously so to get them off his back, he’s the one that ordered the third translation of the Bible from Hebrew to English (the King James Version aka the Authorized Version) so the Bible every hot blooded all American Christian reads today was literally just written so a very gay king could fuck his boyfriend in peace.
oh my god this is hilarious
“guys, guys. I know this looks kinda gay, and i promise i have a good explanation for all this, but have you considered… that jesus… is also gay? checkmate, heteros.”
An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.
It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.
That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”
The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.
“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils. Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.
They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives.
P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.
the last lines of the show:
demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?
anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.
demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!
honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗
that addition is a+ :)
THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS
Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Y’all! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).
If ever don’t reblogging this, I’m either dead, dying, or buried under cat.
I know I should care that I’m getting bad again.
The smiling faces of lighters are branded into my skin, my collarbones cut open and bleeding. When a friend asks how I’m doing, I can’t reply, or I will break under the weight of my mind.
But somewhere inside me, the pain is refusing to connect.
I still smile, still laugh.
And when I slice myself open, I don’t feel the pain of it. Somewhere I know that it’s bad, I know I’m losing the month-clean I fought so hard for...
But somewhere, somehow, I can’t bring myself to care.
Everything is empty.
you
don’t like raspberries?
she asks
and i want to scream
like i used to when i was a kid.
when i couldn’t stomach anything
even remotely raspberry-flavored
even when drenched in sugar
because she’s my mother.
she should know this.
just like she should know that i
hate peppermint tea
wear my hair in low ponytails
like blue
better than green.
i wonder what else she’ll lose.
i wonder why she’s losing it.
it scares me.
I haven’t been this bad for a while.
I shouldn’t be this bad again. It’s fucking homecoming week, after all, don’t you want to go to the dance? Aren’t you excited by all this spirit week shit? Don’t you have friends?
All that happened was that you fought with your little brother this morning. All that happened was that he called you privileged. Said it was unfair. All that happened was your little sister said he was right, and you get whatever you want, and just run away from home if you don’t.
And they’re wrong, right?
“Morality binds and blinds. It binds us into ideological teams that fight each other as though the fate of the world depended on our side winning each battle. It blinds us to the fact that each team is composed of good people who have something important to say.”
—
Jonathan Haidt,
The Righteous Mind
My most popular post used to be hating myself for eating too much
Now it’s a list of all the reasons I won’t kill myself
And I think this might be what getting better feels like
Hey. Do you need a hug?
Maybe you’re having a stressful day. Maybe you just need a deep breath. Maybe you just didn’t realize how stressed you are. It’s okay! You deserve love and warmth in your life.
Are you comforted by words?
Here’s an Emergency Compliment
Here are some kind words you can personalize with your name
Here are 15 more emergency compliments
Here is a Self Esteem Boosting Confidence Machine
take a moment - video
believe in yourself - video
Inspiration from Jacksepticeye - PMA
encouragement from Mr. Rogers - video
you are ENOUGH - video
Do you need to hear some pleasant ambient sounds?
How about rain sounds you can customize?
You can listen to a cafe here
or how about a crackling fireplace?
ASMR? Stimming?
Soap cutting ASMR - video
more soap ASMR - video
a 4 hour ASMR video to help with sleep
ASMR face and scalp massage - video
ASMR slime - video
the most satisfying video in the world
more satisfying videos
Lora Zombie speed painting - video
Agnes Cecile speed painting - video
the fastest workers in the world - video
how candy canes are made - video
Mr. Rogers shows how crayons are made - video
How about a game or activity distraction?
Play 2048 here
A whole website of free games!
play chess against a computer
Here are some coloring pages you can do online!
Play Flow online here
here’s a game where you stretch a giraffe’s little neck to give kisses
Learn about the history of life on earth with PBS Eons
Do you need something soothing?
Control the pattern of rain here! (flashing colors warning)
try doing nothing for two minutes
Vent to a stranger online for FREE!
weavesilk, where you can create a soothing pattern
have you ever been to the nicest place on the internet?
watch Bob Ross bring joy to painting - playlist
How about a laugh?
Vines you can show your grandparents
History of the entire world, I guess
History of Japan
Rhett and Link caption fails
Thomas Sanders Vines
The Demented Cartoon Movie (warning for flashing colors)
The ASDF movie 1-11
The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon by Richard Gale (warnings for some bruises and some violence)
Rhett and Link VS Hank Green - SHUT UP AND DANCE
It’s going to be okay. Today may be the worst day of your life - but tomorrow won’t be. Life is a series of ups and downs, and that means there’s going to be good and bad. Drink some water, let yourself cry if you need to, and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.
Reblogging anyone who may need it, and also for me to easily find later.
i listen to “guns for hands”
loud enough that i can’t hear the arguments
and draw tattoos on my wrists in sharpie
that i’ll probably go over again later
in red
—on surviving heartbreak
i think one of the first things i did after the thought of forever no longer being an option was dwell on where we went wrong. maybe it was an act of trying to restore myself, maybe it was finding a piece of her that i still loved so much. regardless of whatever answer you may find, you should know that you can’t stay mad at this person for too long because if you truly love someone, to truly love someone… we must realize that we won’t always be the one they’ll call right before their eyes get too heavy, we won’t always be the one they’ll immediately go to when shit hits the fan. i once knew a girl, who said that after we broke up, she didn’t think about the bad moments— she remembered all of the good. the small victories that we shared, the learning of how to love someone with the proper respect that they deserve. that’s the shit that people don’t want to talk about. if you adore this person, sometimes the best way to go about it is to let them be happy with or without you. and sometimes, that involves pain. most of the time it’ll involve misery— you don’t have to get used to it, you have to deal with it. if you’re so in love with this person… smile. you guys happened. so imagine that your life is one huge library that continues to grow every year. this person wasn’t just an ordinary book— this person was a dictionary that changed the way you saw every single word. when you see the word sunset, it’s a memory. when you see the word upset, it’s a picture of you holding them. when you see the word longing, it’s from afar. when you see the word love, it’s simple. if you loved me once upon a time, you’ll always have a part of me that i can’t share with anyone. that word is all yours.
another thing that kept me alive was the thought that one day, it’d all make sense. it’s been a long while, you won’t keep track of the days because pain eventually starts to fade— you’re growing back into yourself like a toddler feeling the rain for the first time. an experience indeed, to live alone, to not be a part of someone else. of course it hurts, it just means that somewhere along the line, loving them became more important than breathing. you’ve been running out of air for so long that now— now that you’re finally free and you’re yourself again… you have to define the reflection in that mirror for yourself, not for anybody else. your emotions are your responsibility. don’t blame someone for the pain they’ve caused, you feel like you’re dying because that person that stayed up late just to comfort someone is no longer who you are. you’re different now. like alice. she loved wonderland, but when she returned from the madness— she was never the same. this isn’t the end, it’s just another beginning that you get to write.
sure, you’re gonna cry. who doesn’t? if you really had those feelings. if you really were in love. you’re gonna cry. if it was true. if it was authentic. if it was genuine. you’re gonna cry. this is what happens when you pluck the prettiest flower from the garden— it will always remain beautiful to you even as it is wilting. that’s the strangest thing about this thing called love, a dead love is better than no love. you won’t see it now, but as the months pass by— that hole in your heart? if you keep pushing yourself, if you keep stretching your boundaries, if you rediscover yourself… the possibilities for happiness… it’s endless. you are gonna cry. you’re gonna cry a lot, but that’s okay. at least you’re dealing with it head on. so write yourself to sleep. replay it a few more times. find yourself a creative outlet to express your rage and fury, your longing and loyalty. but know this— no matter where you end up, it’s going to be alright. you will survive this.
remember the first time you kissed them? how you never thought that moment would end? this ending, no matter how bitter or how sweet it was. no matter how shit ends up. this is their last gift for you. you must go on this adventure without them. you must grow without them. and somewhere along the way, maybe you won’t need to pluck anymore flowers. maybe you’ll find a gardener, who will remove the weeds for you. maybe he’ll add a variety of florals into your already large presence of life. you are after all also in that first moment to them too. when you say i love you back— you’re also saying it to yourself. it’s okay to be selfish from time to time. love demands that we see both sides. selfishness and selflessness— love demands that we reign like kings and queens on top of soft clouds, that every once in awhile… just decides to rain when a few flowers are in need of care. don’t abandon love, embrace that it was.
and lastly, you have to love yourself as much as they loved you. because without you, none of it would’ve been possible. it only hurts because of the time invested that you won’t ever get back. it only hurts because what you saw as a once in a lifetime thing was just that— a once in a lifetime thing. but you get to have more than one of those. roses come and go. lovers come and go. the seasons come and go. it’s gonna be just fine. you’re not dying, you’re just relearning how to live again. i see you and hear you. you’re alive again. you’re breathing again. that’s life.
Don’t stay alive for someone else.
Don’t stay alive because you might hurt someone who cares.
Because in the end, that is never enough. Maybe it’ll talk you down today, but eventually you get tired of being selfless. Eventually you get tired of not hurting anyone else, when all they do is hurt you. Eventually, you want a chance to change something, and it’s so fucking easy to believe that you can do it better by dying than living.
I have been there. So please believe me when I say-
Stay alive for you.
Stay alive for the child in your baby pictures. The one with light in their eyes, who has nothing but beautiful ideas of what the world can be, and who has dreams for when they grow up. Stay alive for that child and their dreams, because that child is you and the dreams never really go away. They’re just buried somewhere. And you deserve to live them. Or for the child in the pictures that doesn’t have that light. That doesn’t have those dreams, that never had them, because they have lived surrounded by darkness, and they have grown up believing that there is no way out of it. Because they deserve-because you deserve-one picture taken with a genuine laugh on your lips, and a genuine light in your eyes.
Stay alive, because you haven’t eaten every ice cream flavor possible yet, and you deserve to. Because ice cream is good. (Stay alive if you’re lactose intolerant, or vegan, or just don’t like ice cream, because have you ever tried homemade vegan cake? Or handmade meringues? Believe me, those are worth living for. For you.)
Stay alive, because the sunrise is beautiful, even if you have to wake up early to see it-and sunset is beautiful too, and requires no extra staying awake.
Stay alive, because you might get the chance to watch a golden retriever swim, and then shake the water off on their owner, and there are few things in life more entertaining than that.
Stay alive, because horses have a speed just before a gallop where they move so smoothly you almost forget you’re on one, and the power in that moment is incredible.
Stay alive, because it rains on the beach sometimes without any lightning, and being in the waves in that moment, where the rain on your lips washes away the salt, and steals away the heat, and the sea turns as gray as the sky, is awe-inspiring.
Stay alive, because some days, in tiny towns in the mountains, fog rolls in and covers all of the surroundings, and the sky is entirely silver, and you feel like you’re lost in a storybook.
Stay alive, because sea turtles crawl onto the sand at night to lay eggs, and if you’re quiet and lucky and turn off your lights, maybe you’ll be able to watch one. Maybe you’ll get close enough to touch it, and smell what the sea is like on land.
Stay alive, because no matter how many mistakes you’ve made, you can never forgive yourself for them, or heal from them, or grow, if you’re dead. (And neither can anyone else, not really-but this, here and now, is for you.)
Stay alive, because when lightning is trapped inside of a cloud, it lights up the entire inside, and if it’s the right time of night, the edges of the clouds turn purple, and there is a masterpiece inside the stars.
Stay alive, because you can dig your hand into soil under grass, and it will be warm and soft against your fingers, and you can crumple it into your palms, and be holding the planet inside your hands.
Stay alive, because there are people out there who squeak when they laugh, and it is well worth becoming friends with them, because once you get them to even giggle once, you will be entertained for an hour at least.
Stay alive, because the embers of a campfire under the stars late at night start to look more like a reflection than a dying fire, except painted in red instead of silver, and you will never see anything more beautiful than that.
Stay alive, because as stupid as they are, memes can be funny.
Stay alive, because racing down a freeway in a car with the windows rolled down so that wind races through your hair and stings tears into your eyes, playing music loud enough that you have to yell along, is possibly the fastest your heart will ever beat, and all of the energy is good.
Stay alive, because ice cracks when you drop it into warm enough water, and that sound on a sweltering day, and the way it tastes, especially if your tongue is dry enough, is enough to make you want to drink until your stomach is full.
Stay alive, because rain has a smell, but so does river water, and even once you smell them both, it takes more than a lifetime to decide which one is blue and which one is green.
Stay alive. Because life is waiting for you. Because there is beauty to see, and to touch, to smell and to taste, and to hear, all around you. Stay alive, because when you are alive, you can live.
And you-you-regardless of who you are-you have so much to live for. That will always be inside you, without you ever having to rely on someone else. Stay alive, because you wouldn’t be given those moments if you didn’t deserve them, and believe me, you deserve them.
Stay alive. For you.
