I am still that girl,
the one whose heart is a continent too big for the skin.
I am either a bee sting,
or a flower petal
or a shipwreck trying to resurrect itself.
This is what I’ve learned:
self-love is a sun that spends its entire life fighting its way
through a delta of grey clouds.
I am not always whole.
Some days I am an uneven walkway filled with hell cracks.
This does not mean I am not worthy.
This does not mean I am not my own form of beautiful.
|—||-Karese Burrows (via avvfvl)|
|—||From The Incantation of Frida K. by Kate Braverman (via hush-syrup)|
by neil craver
life is this photo. drowning and floating and everything is blurry and kind of scary and beautiful and confusing all at the same time.
This is my favourite tumblr photo from now on; the female body and nature, the border between water and land, and death and life, hmm-hmmm.
Learned to speak to us in stars,
What would it whisper?
|—||~for a science haiku anthology at my college~ (via paralian)|
Claude Monet’s home, Giverny