To Be Loved Means To Be Consumed. To Love Means To Radiate With Inexhaustible Light. To Be Loved Is To

pictures where the sea and sky are no longer distinguishable

something is rotting.

the smell pervades the house, wafting through the halls, seeping under the doorframes.

it’s subtle at first. easy to ignore. i turn on a fan and soon enough I’ve gone noseblind.

it’s been three days. I found a little mouse dead on the floor. it’s small. too small.

the smell gets worse. the fan is on all the time now. I put perfume under my nose to block it out. eventually, I grow numb.

a week. there is no escaping it. I have looked everywhere. it has stained all my clothes. It is here, somewhere, the source of it.

it has been months. I cannot leave. I am weak. it affects me constantly.

something is rotting.

it is me. it has always been me.

Alpine lotus leaf flower

in dedication to summer rain and the smell of petrichor

Here’s a video so you can hear the water and the thrushes. I took it for you because you couldn’t be there. <3

With @staff 's recent post saying 1/4 of this site is LGBTQ going around, I'd like to see what the actual demographic is

So!

Please reblog for bigger sample size!

dear god,

i have grown since we last spoke, but i have not forgotten. i will never forget.

the silence will be etched on the canvas of my memory for all of eternity

your world, this world, that ebbs and flows so beautifully

the passage of time is a rich work of art that so few understand

and as it spins, the things that die create new life

flowers grow among the bones and

leaves sprout from the ashes and

i am still here.

i wish to die like a star, glowing and gleaming and destructively beautiful.

being trans is a bit like

running hands over yourself and thinking

“i cannot wait for there to be a scar there

in the place of something else”

to know that all that will be left is the mark

a tangible reminder of how the creator wronged you

and how you made it right

sometimes,

I fear,

I feel too much.