5 am

i get colored by you, my eyes get welled up with blue tears. spring, summer, fall, and winter, always in that same feeling, i want to go back to those days when i didn’t know anything.

[1ovexspells]

i love me so much, she makes me my favorite foods, she cleans my room, she buys me all the little things i want, and she always works her hardest to make me happy. she’s always been there for me, through the lows and highs. she is the only person who really knows and understands me. i’m so grateful for her ♡

[fairycosmos]

you literally have to unironically listen to some shit like party rock anthem so you don’t kill yourself

[smokedruid]

if there’s one thing about me it’s that i love trinkets. give me a rock? i’ll keep it forever. little charm? i’m wearing it every day

[swagg1ttarius]

divine intervention where my guardian angel just beats the shit outta me

[philosophybits]

“Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.”

— John Keats, Letters (1817–1820)

[symdog]

"no you can't control the computer because uh that would be user unfriendly" <- shit they expect us to believe

[kosmogrl]

the thing is, it’s never too late for anyone to start over except me. I’m doomed and it’s over for me

[iridescent-sunshine]

I've never met anyone who's issues with transgender people couldn't be solved by minding their own business.

[ceruleanheaven]

[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over

[askebos]

“Stop thinking about saving your fragile face. Tell us your particularized world. Make up a story. Narrative is radical, creating us at the very moment it is being created. We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp. We will not blame you if your words go down in flames and nothing is left but the raw-scald. We will not blame you if, with the reticence of a surgeon’s hands, your words suture only the red places where blood might flow. We will not blame you because we know you can never do it properly: once and for all. Passion is never enough. Talent is never enough. Skill is never enough. But try. For our sake and yours. So. Forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul. You, so blessed with occasional blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

— Toni Morrison, The Nobel Lecture In Literature, 1993

[petaltexturedskies]

All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person's (or thing's) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time's relentless melt.

Susan Sontag, On Photography (originally published in 1977)

[wiiwheel]

Everyone is bloomscrolling in my beautiful internet garden

[florial]

[noonwalkdiary]

i was so fucking sad when i was 14 and now when i fold my laundry or see a pool of moonlight on the floor of my bedroom i know that miracles exist. i see love in everything. love sees everything in me too

[metamorphesque]

It’s strange to think that long before I had a name or a heartbeat, I existed in some shadowed, elemental way. Women are born with all the eggs they'll ever have, and these begin forming while they're still in the womb. So when my mother was just a fetus, the egg that would become me was already inside her. That means my grandmother carried not just my mother, but the beginning of me as well. For a fleeting moment, the three of use shared one body, and went through life together, layered like nesting dolls.

[caffeinec0nt]

And from a young age, i knew my favorite activity was obsessing over things

[tenderlovingmuse]

sorry i’m late. i was listening to the wind in the trees.