engulfes:

something deeply intimate about being outside early in the morning all alone and seeing the world as she is

coinandcandle:

My craft is not sterile, it is full of blood, sweat, and tears.

Literally.

I use bodily fluids, I use trash found on the side of the road, I use things that I would otherwise get rid of or toss, I use dirt, I use ashes, I use what I have.

My craft is not sterile and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

cottagecore-moss-king:

If I can’t go hide in the woods for a week and come back an ancient druid with horns and infinite knowledge then what is the point in living this life.

livingdeadgrl666:

date night

cockworkangels:

wow this is too intimate to share with my close friends or family let me put this on my tumblr blog for hundreds of strangers to see

feelingsoftheday:

people make time for who they want. remember that.

gomenasike:

sometimes I reblog stuff from people I’m not following and I feel like I walked into a store and just stole stuff and walked out.

lefildariane:

Crimson Peak (Guillermo del Toro, 2015).

petaltexturedskies:

Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.

Sylvia Plath, from the unabridged journals