── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever

“You never pretended to be a bride when you were a little girl?” No???? Like literally never?

I made witch soups in my garden

nice things will happen but first you have to lose all hope and die 45 times

I love you thunderstorm lullabies. I love you foggy mornings. I love you misty days. I love you birds playing in puddles. I love you raindrop-bejeweled blades of grass. I love you cool breeze.