Suitcase Boudoir:

Narcissus taking a selfie is the ACTUAL best.

Painting recreations are my favorite thing to come out of quarantine.

Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

it’s ninety-nine degrees outside, four fuck-thousand percent humidity, and my husband was like, “i’m gonna go for a bike ride.” and i was like “why. no. why. don’t put us on the news like that. local fool collapses on unnecessary journey. don’t do it.” so he says he doesn’t want to “hide in the house” because the sun is shining. bruh. honeybruh. “the sun is shining” does not cover it. its hot outside. its motherfucking hot as fuck outside. our outdoor plants have been crying into their hands all week. whole cars are melting into the sewer. our fucking patio umbrella developed sentience to ask me for lemonade this morning

@robotmango, you need to work for the weather forecast - this was both hilarious and so vivid it made me stand up and get some iced tea.

this is a great idea, thank you. here goes. my audition tape for the weather channel. dearly beloved. we are gathered here today to have a fucking funeral for the outdoors. it had a good run, with all its creeks and clouds and shit. pretty great. now it’s ten-thirty at night but still ninety-two asshole-sweating degrees and humid as fuck. everything is hot and slimy, like being a “borrower” that got trapped inside a bottle of shampoo and then accidentally microwaved. you can see on my doppler radar that nothing is moving around out there because everything is probably dead. the only alive thing is the mosquito currently trying to drill a hole in my leg. no surprise that all the shitbag mosquitos are fine, since the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature. this forecast has gotten away from me a little, but in conclusion fuck the sun

I think I’ve reblogged this before, but “the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature” is fucking poetry

This is poetry.

I fucking laughed till I cried so hard I had to take my glasses off. Jesus Christ that’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen all week.

This is a KIDS show?!?

It’s sad that this is literally a representation of my life

if you see someone being interrupted in a conversation, acknowledge them, don’t let them be pushed to the side. if you see someone lagging behind, walk beside them. if someone is being ignored, take the step to include them. always remind people of their worth. it hurts when it feels like you’re being forgotten. that small gesture can mean a lot.

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1959, Oil on canvas

CAN WE SAY THAT LOUDER PLEASE

These 🖤

Pregnancy.

The fact that the location of the world’s oldest tree has to be kept secret encapsulates everything that’s bad about humanity.