I Want Her, Only Buttons & Lace,

thank your local trans girl for being alive right now

Koi mere saath vrindavan chalega?

saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Sylvia Plath

apple blossomed trees / roots with the birds

The heart is the only type of muscle with zero fuel reserves. It is totally dependent on its fuel supply. Cut its fuel supply off and it won't last long, but it will beat tirelessly and relentlessly as long as it has fuel. It makes me wonder if we are we really that naive to think that love will be eternal when we don't  take care of it, when we do not nurture it or feed it? And yet we expect love to go on till the end like some super marathon runner who can go on and on, and not refuel at all during the race? Is it really surprising when love collapses at some point of the way? Love lives in a human heart, a delicate one at that, a very mortal and needing heart. 

e.v.e.

they should invent a life that is liveable and a sleep that comes easy and a winter that doesn't feel like decay and a spring that doesn't feel like the past and a head that doesn't hurt and a heart that doesn't sit in your chest like a rock and a body that doesn't hate you and a hometown that doesn't make you lose your mind and a university that won't kill you they should invent a me that is normal I think that would be really neat. ok good night I love you

I would not be the person I am without the authors who made me what I am - the special ones, the wise ones, sometimes just the ones who got there first.

Neil Gaiman (via resqectable)

Happy International Women's Day, ladies!! Hope you have a nice day today <3