Wish My Hair Grew Little Flowers On Its Own How Neat Would That Be

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, let. People. Feel. Their. Grief. Often at times we don’t want someone to sweep us off our feet. We don’t want someone to put a smile on our face. We don’t want someone to shove our favourite ice cream down our throats or for that matter blast our favourite songs right from the speaker. We want to acknowledge how hurt we are often because we feel as though others would not even spare us a glance, your intention matters a lot, yes it was very sweet of you to do that but it may not have been very smart, be patient and I mean this in the sweetest way possible. Sometimes we’re just not ready. We require some time, that is all

When my friend said “I want to hold you, I want to know you, and I want to know where you’ve been” and Vashti Bunyan said “I want to walk around your mind someday, I’d like to walk all over the things you say to me, I’d like to run and jump on your solitude, I’d like to rearrange your attitude to me, you say you just want peace and you’d never hurt anyone, you see the end before the beginning has ever begun”

We don’t know and we’re not at an authority to know what tomorrow’s consequences would bear, and it’s completely 110% ok to accept that there’s someone out there willing to sit by our side and help us through the net, to weave a heart and perhaps even a warm sweater out of it, not something that traps us in the disguise of our solitude. It’s alright to admit you’d want to reach out to a hand that helps you see through the holes of a woven mess because claiming that one wants peace and doesn’t want to act violently against another gives away more than you’d intend for it to, especially when it goes further than just wanting to restore a sense of security and support externally, it speaks about the nature you’ve been sown to, and how you can very much grow out of it, creating peace outside can only come after one has created peace within themselves :) to come to a mutual consensus with your mind and heart, collectively working together to patch through and heal each other

They’re not stepping in on your privacy but simply stopping by your doorstep to find a spot for the two of you to sit together, leaving behind a trail of palm leaves so you can feel and see the glimpses of your growth and vulnerability, not as a weakness but as a medium to communicate with yourself <3

I remember a site once asked me to specify my qualifications for a course I was applying for, but what really struck my eye was the format of their question , “could you please take out a second of your time to help us determine the inclination of your course by giving this quiz a try?”, the ‘please’ ? My oh my I’ll kiss whoever programmed that test on the cheek, it was so endearing, I mean it WHOEVER sat down and took their time to think that through gets flowers from me

PIXEL CHIX

I've been desperately trying to remember the way I lived or made it through a certain day, and I'm caught between trying to record every second of it or loading my gallery with pictures and holding it close to myself by trusting my peripheral vision, I can’t tell whether im trying to exploit my present, or trying to preserve the ashes of a fire that once soared high, I can’t tell if it robbed me off my sight to capture the moment or left me agape enough to not be able to process anything 

its similar to that particular situation in class, where the teacher’s writing an ideology on the board but you're so engrossed all the while taken aback that its too late to take notes, and you don't trust your memory enough to attempt to rewrite it from scratch, so you turn to your left to ask your deskmate to read it out loud for you but you bite your tongue before you speak because you know they hold a different vision, and your heart races at the prospect of never seeing that glint of passion yonder again.

“to everyone their own perception, to everyone their own vision” to some a curse, to some a gem.

I wish I could remember the past.

It seems silly to me, to not have recorded every moment of that life, that past life before chaos exploded.

How unconscious I was to think it would last forever. I used to live in that past life, wild and happy and confident.

Now, I look around, trying to find my footsteps, trying to figure out who I was, who I used to be, what I used to believe in.

It's in vain.

I can't remember.

And I don't know whether that is a curse or a blessing.

- F. A.

Susan Sontag - “Death Kit”

Bedroom idea from the Better Homes & Gardens Decorating Book, 1975

Just a little taken aback by the fact that we get to sleep amidst the stars

Imagine dancing around the body of a sapien in shades of crimson, just as the moon reflected the colors of their blush