َ

my heart has its own unique color, sound and texture. it is woven from frosty silence

this autumn smells of gloom and isolation

you are like an angel; nothing can touch you. or like an evil spirit: everyone fears it, yet no one has seen it. and if anyone has, they are either lying or already driven mad.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏take my blood

no sin – no repentance

pretty bestie

melancholy has its own beauty solitude has its own peace

† †

everything i touch turns to ice. living with black-and-white thinking, i didn't notice how the world truly faded into shades of gray, leaving nothing bright in my eyes and stealing the joy from everything colorful

do it

not mentally ready for this

im worried about mine too