This Is What It Means To Be Human

the fact that is impossible for me, in one life, to study classical studies, archaeology, international relations, all the literature in the world, get a languages degree in italian, german, greek, latin, russian and french; learn how to play the violin and also piano, cello, guitar and the flute; learn how to sing, both modern singing and classical singing/opera; is my villain origin story.

Bitches be like I have so much to do but end up laying on bed listening to wildest dreams (Taylor's version) while creating fake scenarios in my head. I am bitches.

i’m at my bridge and i’m ready to burn it

I just want to be a little hobbit living daily life in the golden days of the Shire. Newly plucked flowers decorating my curly hair, picking vegetables from the garden to place in my basket, a fresh, warm pie cooling on the counter, and wandering the hillsides in my bare feet…what a dream that would be…

gonna start decomposing soon for so many reasons

reblog to decompose

you know you want to

all im asking for is a good life. im a simple girl with simple needs. i just want to live in a small cottage or a mansion full of art, it doesn’t matter which. i just want to be surrounded by art. art like the warm scents of wild flowers, the smell of soil, the varying colors of the earth which its flowers bear, and art like the wide fields where i want to run through with my lover hand in hand, like there’s no tomorrow. again, im a simple girl with simple needs, with a need for art.

I read. Obsessively. Because, when I read, there is purpose to my loneliness.

whoever is writing my life has got mad writers block bc wtf am i doing

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood.”

— Melissa Cox