you do not have to be good

literally though if you feel like your life is slipping through your fingers and every day goes too fast… try doing hard things, not just taking the easy route, like reading and making art and exercising and cooking a meal from scratch and journaling, doing these things without distraction, without being absorbed on a screen… the time will stretch and you’ll be reminded that life is long and beautiful if you make it so.

I want to roll up my sleeves, dig my hands deep into the dirt, feel the soil under my fingernails, and carry the smell of the wet earth back home with me. I want to plant something, a tomato bush or lemon seeds; set the terra cotta pots in the light just so, remembering where the afternoon light likes to dance in the living room; on the balcony, by my bedside. I want to pay attention, even when nothing’s happened yet. Wave good morning to it. Whisper encouragement into its sleeping pocket of dirt before I call it a night, too. Mark the days in the margin of my journal of everything that’s happened, with a little note aside: today, just a sprout—two weeks, two branches opening young arms to the world. I want to hold something green and fresh in my hands. Admire the time it took to get here; the slow and precious process. Remember the care, the patience it takes, to keep a living thing alive. 

i'll reblog posts about how it could still happen i'll reblog posts about how it was never going to happen i'll reblog posts about how it doesn't matter and i'll reblog posts about how it does. hashtag playing for all teams

date night! i’m bleeding out in your bathtub

I love dusky pinks. this too is an earth tone, to the evolved mind 

When love visits you again… may it be genuine, safe, reassuring, and secure.

i think queer people should be more confusing actually. i think we should make everyone as confused as possible until they give up and realize that total understanding of other people isnt the gateway to respect and compassion

@clarasamelia

moodboards playlists web weaving . girl bloggers are museum curators

i hate when a poem is good. Fuck you for saying that for real