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Save your money.

Buy a car.

Buy a house.

Buy some...groceries.

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To have the confidence and charisma of the most flamboyant of drag queens.

I want that.

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$200 for a plate of food? Guy, my soul better tranCEND.

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I tell myself that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to cry because things don’t feel right. And, “What things?”, I ask. Any of them.

Some days I’m aware of how hard I’m trying to be a perfect soul. Loving, gentle, flowing through everything, but I can hear the strain in my voice when it’s pushed just a bit too far, forcing an identity that isn’t quite there. Too scared of not having an identity.

“Who would want to marry a saint?” I hear it, all the time.

But I’m so tired of days like this.

So tired of feeling so filthy.

So tired of the tricks my mind plays on me.

Please. Just let me be the wind.

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Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

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Parenting: you’re doing it right.

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@musterni-illustrates

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*sensually de-robes from my red slutty velvet number as I slowly skinny dip into the tar pits and become an excellent preserved fossil that stuns scientists for years to come and yes my chanel black 6 inch heels are still in perfect condition*

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Bella and Edythe 1918

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Florette ph. by Jacques-Henri Lartigue, Paris, 1944

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