i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here
Last year i completed almost everything on my yearly bucket list except for making marzipan flowers alongside a croquembouche tower and most importantly doing micro surgery. This year i will drown myself in marzipan and sutures. I will love wholeheartedly even if the ache hasn't learned to subside. If the world is a fruiting tree than i will live with my mouth agape, watering for its ripening possibility and my arms ajar catching all that can be dreamt possible… fuck you sylvia plath I’m making fig jam in my mouth
