you're gonna be wounded.

[picture text: Brave, kind, loyal, sweet, loving, graceful, strong, thoughtful, funny, genuine, hopeful, playful, insightful, and on and on… Was she, though? Was she any of those things? The words make me angry. I can’t look at them any longer. Why do we romanticize the dead? Why can’t we be honest about them? Especially moms. They’re the most romanticized of anyone. Moms are saints. Angels by merely existing. NO ONE could possibly understand what it’s like to be a mom. Men will never understand. Women with no children will never understand. No one but moms know the hardship of motherhood, and we non-moms must heap nothing but praise upon moms because we lowly, pitiful non-moms are mere peasants compared to the goddesses we call mothers. Maybe I feel this way now because I viewed my mom that way for so long. I had her up on a pedestal, and I know how detrimental that pedestal was to my well-being and life. That pedestal kept me stuck, emotionally stunted, living in fear, dependent, in a near constant state of emotional pain and without the tools to even identify that pain let alone deal with it.]

her video has a laugh. “just do it!”

“I want to be loved like…” I want that for you too. I want you to have every type of love you dream of. I want you to find a sailor, a mountaineer, a gardener. I want you to find whatever you are looking for when you peer out at the horizon like that. I want the horizon to come to you. I want you to be loved like that. However I am not a lover. 

some sort of love poem

(C.B)(1.7.19)

please do not touch the plants!! !

new jumper that i am obsessed with