April 2012
I choose to feel good.
2 tags
Spooning is the best.
That is all.
2 tags
2 tags
3 tags
4 tags
"449" by Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty — but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining room — He questioned softly “Why I failed?” “For Beauty,” I replied — “And I — for Truth — Themself are One — We Brethren, are,” He said — And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night — We talked between the Rooms — Until the Moss had reached our lips — And covered up — our names —
2 tags
4 tags
"339" by Emily Dickinson
I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe— The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death— Impossible to feign The Beads upon the Forehead By homely Anguish strung.
1 tag
I love when you cup my head in your big warm hands and kiss me on the cheek and on the forehead. It’s such a soft, familiar action.
3 tags
2 tags
3 tags
2 tags
2 tags
4 tags
2 tags
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
4 tags
2 tags
3 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
1 tag
I’m trying to tell myself that I have time and things will work out, because right now I feel like a big ol’ loser.
3 tags
2 tags
4 tags
3 tags
2 tags
1 tag
Doing grownup stuff is scary. I’m usually very excited and anxious to be an independent adult, but every now and then I get stage fright.
3 tags
1 tag
4 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
1 tag
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
3 tags