So I’ve been away for too long, sorry about that. I’m back.
Mike Driver
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@wearegrowingyoung
So I’ve been away for too long, sorry about that. I’m back.
I am cursed
I am cursed. I am under a spell of always wanting the best out of everyone and everything. Under the curse of secretly idealize and dream about things actually happening: That the world will stop delivering news that you don want to hear while you drink your coffee in the morning. That one day we will stop fighting for peace. That one day I will leave this dead town and begin somewhere else. That one day that thing people call fullfillment will come. That one day my heart will explote for other reasons. That one day you will see me with the same eyes I once saw you with. That one day my bed will only be for sleeping and no to avoid an inexistent routine. I am cursed. I know I am because I am certain that someday all of this will happen but deep down I also know they won’t. How is that even posible? Its like feeling that you are living when you are actually not. It’s like wanting to leave by wanting to stay. Its like saying yes to later say NO. Its like moving one step forward and then four hundred steps backward. It’s like us, something that never was but always will be. Its to add one more thing to my box of paradoxes.
I am cursed. -M
Future New Yorker by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr: this is something I wouldn't normally upload but I love this photograph. I know it has nothing to do with my fashion work or my recent uploads but I had to share. This is from last year. I can't wait to go to NY again.
I am cursed. by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr: SELF PORTRAIT. one of my favorites self portraits in a long time. BLOG POST BLOG | Facebook Page | instagram |Tumblr
pretty things can come out of scars
One time I read something along the lines of:
“There is people that still thinks that pretty things can’t come out of scars”
Let me tell you: they can. pretty things come can come out of scars. they come with a ravishing force waking you up at the middle of the night. they come in the form of obsessive thoughts. of anxiety attacks. and tears.
For me, all of this is beautiful. I have scars because of all of that. Or I have all of that because of my scars, I don’t really know.
some people think that you can choose not to be like this. but let me tell you again: you can’t. thats why they are called scars. scars fade, but never go away. for some you are a walking complication. to others you are chaos. sometimes you cry black, sometimes you cry pink. but don’t you get it? pretty things can come out of scars.
Maybe I am a walking complication. maybe I am chaos. Or maybe you are. Maybe this is me trying to convince myself that pretty things can come out of scars.
-M this is shit, I have the worst writers block ever.
CROP by Monica Cazares Salomon
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pretty things can come out of scars by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr: BLOG POST BLOG | Facebook Page | instagram |Tumblr
This is how i feel pretty
Pretty lingerie is always a good idea n.2 // obsessed with details.
Morning Light by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr:
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I’ve been feeling so out of words lately .
I Grow Flowers Series by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr:
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I grow Flowers
I grow flowers. I always have. I do my own thing because it is only me. and it will be only me for quite some time. I grow flowers. I plant my own seeds and grow them. But sometimes I find myself watching them die as well. I sit and watch. and I watch them fade. I watch the weather do its thing. the heat do its thing. I watch the world do its thing. and sometimes I sit there not doing my thing. I grow flowers. I plant my own seeds and grow them. but yes, sometimes I grow them and kill them. sometimes I never let them bloom. I want to let them bloom. I want them to bloom so much so that I could get lost in them. get lost in a beautiful garden. get lost in such beauty and never be found. I want to live in a never dying garden. a never dying spring. a never dying happiness. But I am human. and just like everything else I will die too. -M
They say we are what we remember, and well, I remember everything.
I die too (I grow flowers series) by Monica Cazares Salomon Via Flickr: BLOG POST
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