“I’d rather wear flowers in my hair, than diamonds around my neck.”
— Unknown
(via thoughtkick)
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“How can I describe my life to you? I think a lot, listen to music. I’m fond of flowers.”
— Susan Sontag, from “Death Kit,” published c. January 1967
So Valentine’s day is coming up. The worst day every year, I once again don’t have a Valetine :( someone be nice and buy me flowers
Same
- me: flowers! kittens! pretty skies! calming landscapes!
- also me: knives! cemeteries! blood! ghosts! horror!
When you told me you love me, I felt flowers grow from my heart and bones. I’ve never felt more alive than in that moment. I hope you love me forever because I know I will.
things that make me smile:
- guys holding flowers in their hands because you know he’s about to make someone’s day
- couples who are obviously on a first date and are still in that shy yet eager getting to know you phase
- anyone who gets up for old people on the bus or train
- the pleasantly shocked and surprised face of said old person because they realize that kindness isn’t dead
- handwritten letters
- people holding hands with their parents (especially if they aren’t children anymore)
- friends saying ‘i love you’ to each other because platonic love is so so underrated
- the face of a student who studied so hard for a test and actually did really well
- people who admit that they are wrong without resentment and are willing to learn from their mistakes
- someone who makes you feel like there’s still something worth smiling about in this world when you think you might not make it
Listen, if you’re going to leave, that’s fine. and I know you promised you wouldn’t 5 months ago while I was crying into your neck, but I also know that sometimes it rains even when it’s not supposed to and sometimes boys kiss girls they shouldn’t and we tear flowers out of the ground just to watch them die and things change, so I understand if you’re done.
extrasad (via heywasssuphello)
people need to stop attacking teenage girls who write poetry about turning into wolves and having flowers growing in their ribs bc there are literally grown men writing celebrated poems and novels about how much they hate women
I would rather read 20 hours of teen Halsey-like angst than read another story about some dicksack crying about how betrayed he feels because the women he bought dinner for didnt suck his dick
flawless-imperfections