“what if the aborted baby could have cured cancer???”
oh my god what if the last egg I bled onto a kotex product could have cured cancer??
oh my god how am I not birthing every possible egg I produce, lest one of those resulting babies be the person who cures cancer/AIDS/creates world peace????
what if that baby could have been a musical artist described by pitchfork as “liberace with a metalcore twist”????
how dare i not be pregnant/birthing all the time always?????
Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
I’m at that awkward age where half my friends are engaged or having babies, and the other half are too drunk to find their phones.
favourite person in the world.
I believe this has been my most reblogged post in 2013 so I decided to make the second version I always wanted to do and never got around to before the year ended
Cosette has some serious echo in her room