Emily Brontë, from The Collected Works & Poetry of Emily Brontë; “Wuthering Heights,”
cherry valley forever

Discoholic 🪩
d e v o n
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

bliss lane
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
ojovivo
🪼
No title available

EXPECTATIONS
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
taylor price
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
★

No title available

seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Spain
seen from Brazil

seen from Brazil
@soyaprincess
Emily Brontë, from The Collected Works & Poetry of Emily Brontë; “Wuthering Heights,”
me wishing those anons were from someone who deactivated years ago and most likely wants nothing to do w me lmao THAT is the indication of my mental state atm
I learn everything the hard way
Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959
Ornate welts of raised scar tissue are a mark of beauty, Mozambique, Volkmar Wentzel.
Do anonymous asks help your mental state ?
They usually do for me , distracts my mind
Not so much, I appreciate you checking in but I just wonder who you are too much
Well, I hope you’re well!
I’m okay thank you, how are you?
how’re you?
If I’m lurking on here it’s an indicator for my poor mental state haha
You ever on this place these days?
I lurk occasionally but not much
not now honey, mommy’s yearning for something that once was and will never be again
You have to promise not to look back. Not until you've passed through the tunnel.
Spirited Away 2001 — dir. Hayao Miyazaki
‘the split second before the geyser erupts,' Arnessysla, Iceland 2006
i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever