All Things Bright And Beautiful @kopari - Tumblr Blog

watched the stalks of a lavender bush by the bus stop dip and sway from the sheer amount of fat little bumblebees on it and you know what. some things in this world are good

uncahier

howl224tgeundying

memehex

Now more than ever we need to make Tumblr unmarketable, do NOT invite the government into this space.

dasenergi

Mister Rogers

therobotmonster

Dang, I gotta start feelin’ better about myself.

cute-catts

Car accents 🐈😺

blabbernaculum

So many different dialects

brightlotusmoon

kii-tty

moonchild-77777777777

- Janusz Grabiański (Polish, 1929-1976) Illustration from Poetry for Kaya, 1969.

aokarimero

夜がこんなに明るいなんて（personal work）

unit-02

kosmogrl

take-a-dip-in-the-deadpool

A bit of a pallet cleanser for everyone.

prismatic-bell

Most of the dogs: you have bestowed affection, I will cuddle you

The pit bull: KISSU????? KISSU FOR ME????? I KISS U!!!!! I GIVE KISSES!!!!!

illuminated-pages

1.21.24 - finding comfort in routine and trying not to stress scroll about everything right now.

stuckinapril

i hope that in 2025 u get to take more walks, read more books, connect with more people whom u love and who love u, achieve ur goals (even if ur goals are having no goals and just living in the moment), exercise fun hobbies, move from a place of self-direction, and weave together a beguiling assortment of beautiful little moments. remember that no feeling lasts forever. love u

stuckinapril

and i actually hope u learn to forgive urself a little more and operate from self compassion rather than self flagellation. this is ur first time living - there is no rehearsal to any of this. u will live and u will learn. drink lots of water in the morning and dance to ur favorite music first thing. u are not uniquely horrible, but just learning how to live. u got this <3

schuylerpeck

my mom was once a scared girl, too. though it’s likely, it’s hard to imagine. I sit in the attic and pour over every childhood picture of her I can find. my mother, before her sharp tongue and manicured eyebrows. before three kids and a divorce settlement. before her lookalike Hepburn haircut or even a driver’s license. how human the experience of what’s wrong with me, who am I, could I be someone worth liking? when did it worry her most? where were her hiding places? I wonder if she was the journaling type—devout in everyday cursive or quick, casual updates; stuck ticket stubs and Polaroids. the names of her heartbreaks and high school bullies. I wonder if there was ever a runaway plan she crafted and never pulled the trigger to. how many ways she pictured forever turning out. I think there’s a chance my mom is still a scared girl, though we are different in our practice. I know a cold shoulder feels easier than confrontation. under the sting of her raised voice, I hear the terror in admitting she wants to be needed. how do I tell her we are speaking the same mother tongue, but become so lost in translation.