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I have thought I was a cold weather person my whole life. I always said that I hate warm weather and that I dislike sun but whenever I look back I was so depressed during autumn and winter period. Everything was dying outside but so was it dying inside of me as well. My mental health was horrible before and I hated myself so much but since I started loving myself more, I actually started enjoying sun and heat much more. I never hated the sun, I just hated myself.

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“i want a life full of soft colours, i want to bathe in roses and drink tea mid-afternoon; i want to watch the sunlight illuminate my room through the blinds, i want to be the sun, i want a library the size of the moon and to feel true reciprocated love—i want to love myself. i want red ribbons in my hair and long walks as the sunsets, i want to set a man’s heart on fire, i want to be fire itself. i want the pretty little things that make life fun.”

— P. A. Bitez From the book ‘Soft Tortures’

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Sorry, I only date to be buried together

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I am quite the opposite of nonchalant

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maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

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He is so me

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I really wanna start 1984 by George Orwell. Could someone tell me if it's worth reading

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And my friends laugh me out, even tho they don't even know the meaning of the word

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Ugh I miss summer. I miss the heat. The salty smell in the air. Them. I miss summer.

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"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

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To me, songs are kind of like bookmarks. Have you ever listened to a song that you haven’t heard in a while, and all of a sudden, all the memories of that time period come back, and you remember what your life used to be like. They’re like milestones in your life.