Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
― Pablo Picasso
You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.
Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives.
What if you wake up one morning and you’re in bed with the love of your life and they have their arm around you and their snoring like a fucking ass hole, but you can’t help but to smile and you hear a baby crying and it finally hits you, you’ve made it.
you beat the demons inside you, the voices, the darkness.
I look forward to that, to knowing I made it.
this deserve so many notes