taylor marie, baby

you have witchcraft in your lips 🌑🌊⛈️🌠✨🌾🌻🐝🌞

[sailermoon]

having unwashed hair will have you believing shit like i can’t be saved

[mimiyanna]

The permanent eyebags are cute, right? You think they look cute on me, right?

[pollen]

happy Barely Keeping It Together Wednesday to all who celebrate

[keep-gogh-ing]

this weekend was the most successful reset,

the ending feeling as perfect to me as a sunset,

but lemme start from the beginning so it all makes sense.

i finally got all my cleaning & laundry done by friday afternoon,

so the rest of the weekend would be spent doing whatever the hell i wanted to do.

i spent friday night listening to my new vinyls,

red, folklore, and ttpd & somehow didn’t spiral.

i spent exactly 131.13, which was silly to me, figuring taylor’s number is 13.

really justified the purchase for me.

i really just bought them so i have something of ours to pass the time till you come home to me.

i meant it when i said this is a new start for me.

saturday morning i was up with freyja at 6am,

that girl has me up with the sun again & again.

after i had my lil wake n bake, and freyja had her potty break,

i decided to use james clear methods to rewrite replan revise my current routines—

i realized everything starts with me.

i have a new plan, for a morning, afternoon, and night routine,

which sounds pretty overwhelming,

but it’s really simple & basic things,

and planned naps & free time on the weekends for absolutely anything—including the swings,

and gives me the structure my motivation craves,

without anxiety of forgetting anything day to day.

in the afternoon,

i joined vee & juju,

for a blunt and a view on the river,

i really appreciated the full dandelion i saw on the trek over.

today i gave freyja an early bath, and she napped most of the day,

until jun & liz came over with new toys and she zoomied around with her wigglin’ butt ways.

my dad made a huge dinner, one that was so filling it was hard to east the last bite,

i’m so very thankful he cooks every night.

my freyja is currently cuddling me, while we have cloudy 2 playin, absolutely the way to be.

now i feel like i really have it down, im really ready to tackle everything until december 9th, im a capricorn with a homemade plan that fits just right.

i wonder what you’re doing rn, tonight.

i miss you with all of my might.

i hope i can tell these stories to you in person one day, one night.

[ashstfu]

i’m always so flattered when bees buzz around me. sorry miss, i’m not a flower, but it’s very sweet that you thought i was

[keep-gogh-ing]

my dear mx marie,

i apologize for yesterdays letter,

i shouldve taken the time to self soothe and breathe,

before i emptied out my sadness and jealousy on paper for you to see.

i choose ruthless optimism, by the way.

i choose to delusionally believe you will return to me, somehow, someway.

i choose to tend to this hearth, spark the dying embers into spark then flame,

i promise dear 1, that every action from here on out will be casted with love and my actions from here on out will not be the same.

because at the end of it all, when i give you my all,

if it is not enough,

then you are not actually my 1.

i desire this to be true,

you and me,

through & through,

so i will climb this hill even if its the one i die,

this hill of misery and spite.

in hopes that you will join me on the downside.

i will climb past december if that’s what it takes,

i’ll climb till the hills wears down the soles of my shoes,

till i’m weary and crawl till my jeans around my knees are no longer blue

i’ll sing past the fear, i’ll dance despite the pain,

i will simply pray this is not in vain.

i will find the joy in every damn day.

do not think this optimism is weak,

it has to be a choice everyday that i will thoroughly seek,

which is not for the meak.

i will practice self love, i will practice being my own 3am,

i will habit stack everyday until i no longer recognize this version of me that i am.

every single choice led by “is this loving myself or hurting myself” and quickly self adjust

so that in myself i no longer mistrust.

the continued act of self love will be evidence to myself, that i am worthy of you above all else

and i will not be so enveloped in being envious despite what yesterdays writing may have had you think,

i realize today i have Everything that i’ve years for for years.

another chance to hear your voice ring my ears.

i will count down the days,

until i graduate,

and people will think that it’s for school,

but babydoll it’s just to hear from you.

what a blessing. what a miracle. what a manna from heaven.

you.

your voice.

no partner.

me—here

consistently.

forget the urgency, forget my pain.

i will do Anything—

including survive you with her

to just have a shot at being what we were at that young age

to have ripened with age

& re-intertwine

your arms enveloping mine

is everything i need even in just my mind

to coax this fire back to life

in hopes that you will bring back your light

to my life

you created colors i can so longer see

you’ve created languages i can’t seem to speak

so i will tend to the hearth as its all i have left,

to believe.

my dear mx marie,

please darling.

let yourself come home to me.

[terrorignitis]

Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction

[icaseybaybee]

[malojasnake]

— Sunrise, by Louise Glück

[keep-gogh-ing]

my dear mx marie,

do you think of me when you message her good morning?

do you wish it were me?

or is it her, so simply?

i have two options here currently.

i can sit in this jealousy, this mourning, this pain—

or i can optimistically rejoice all the while hoping it’s not in vain.

you see, mx marie,

all i know factually

is a conversation in six months or gradually—

nothin more.

nothin less.

i’m panicking wondering if while i sit here and write begging you for more,

all the while what if right now for her on camera you undress,

while poems about you spill from my fingertips,

whispers spill from your lips

that she’s you’re 1, she’s it

all the while this conversation is you telling me we aren’t it

that for you i’m not the right fit

while i’ve desperately waited for december to arrive

what if you’re still calling her your partner, your whole life?

or even just taking her good mornings over mine.

i ache, then burn

i want to feel nothing, i turn to stone. i’m tired of feeling this alone.

this is the making.

this is the breaking.

this is the meaning of yearning, it’s unfair paradox.

do i live in this jealousy, this trap, this green box, do i delusionally lock in like you’re already mine?

i know i know, you asked for space , for time,

and i will give that to you, as much as you need.

but dear god, dear mx marie,

please make our conversation you coming home to me.

[keep-gogh-ing]

i love you. i miss you.

that is a whole poem in itself.

[kosmogrl]

[unreadable]

[gaytanic-panic]

[charitydingle]

Kedi 2016, dir. Ceyda Torun

[squishranger]

man i just dont know why im so afraid all the time (<- has the disorder that makes you afraid all the time)

[tunisian]

“why are you like that” because im full of love and whimsy and childlike wonder