clair de lune

"let the souls wander and bleed."

[becherdireinen]

trust that everything will fall into place without you forcing it there.

[uroko]

Rainy day in Kyoto

[love]

[birdasaurus]

for @treygerlera w @anastasia.lisitsyna

[guzgecesi]

[teethovgod-deactivated20250812]

a little reminder: women don’t lose their “value” after 30 btw

[zagrebinaa]

[iiumz]

[happyheidi]

a little bunny looking at the stars in case you're having a bad day.

　　 　　˚ 　　　 . ✧

✧. ★ ˚

★ ☄︎

˚ ✧ ˚　

*. ⋆

༘ * 🔭🐇

[warmfigure]

tulips everywhere!!!

[neckkiss]

St. Elmo’s Fire

[soulmvtes]

some portraits [one]

[04k96]

[faisal-hu]

66

[birdasaurus]

Christy Dawn

[jessmalia]

JO AND MAL AES IN TV AND FILM: 64/? How I Met Your Mother | Last Time in New York

[wells-hannah]

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER ( 2005 - 2014 ) ↳ season 7 episode 9

[inkskinned]

your work matters, and you're not a very good judge of it.

you can have the fancy degrees and the years of experience. you can have zero idea what you're doing and nothing but a song in your heart. the way you view what you write will never be how i view what you write. which is why you gotta write whatever feels real and good and honest to ya.

i forgot this. it's really lonely to be an author. the world you slice through to carve into a page - it can't ever be fully realized. sometimes the sun is butter yellow, and i can never spread it onto toast to serve to you. i can never describe fully the feeling of a new england october, only that a place that is often too-cold is suddenly full of a strange and visceral warmth. if you're not a writer or an artist, the experience is like this: take a flower and study it. without eating it, cook me a meal that tastes like this flower.

so i didn't know how good the book is, only that i hoped beyond a hope that anyone out there might get a kick out of it. maybe someone nice will review it every few days, i thought. i just want it to help any 1 person.

i did a reading recently where far too many people were kind and thoughtful and so gentle with me that i got into my car and burst into tears. i've had a very rough year, and this experience felt like a hug. so many people telling me they love what i read from the book. and in it, listening to the laughter as i read - at jokes i have long since stopped thinking are funny - it sent a bird straight through my heart. oh shit, i thought. i've been so unnecessarily cruel to myself.

you have no idea how many people read your work and don't respond because they are too shy or busy or unsure. i have webcomics i've never commented on that i've been checking on weekly for actual years. there are artists on spotify i will never be able to see in concert. there are paintings in galleries that i couldn't afford but wanted to kiss. i love what you have made, and i have no idea how to tell you. i love you, and it hurt me and helped me and also sent me back home. i wish there was more time and more ways to shine the light back to you.

be gentle. you have no way of knowing if you're good enough, so you might as well make something that feels good to make. someone will love it. and that love is never wasted.