#romanticizing my life

[vesanalt]

Omg the word are flowing out like wine in a river I should have bought Spotify premium again earlier

[hosh-rubaa]

Do I?? From my journal

Last year, I visited my grandma's place—a beautiful small town with sprawling farms, endless greenery, and scenery that took my breath away. I truly cherished my time there. I've always been an admirer of the sky, the moon, and the embrace of nature.

It was the end of the July, and the monsoons were approaching their peak. I was sitting on our terrace as the sun began to set. Birds were flying back to their nests, and the air was filled with a calmness that felt like a warm hug. I looked up at the sky; it was changing colors—red, orange, blue, pink, and a bit of purple. I wondered why these colors only showed up during the rainy season or at sunset.

I went downstairs and sat beside my grandma, who was playing with my little cousin. I asked her, "Dadi, yeh aasmaan apna rang kyun badalta hai?" (Grandma, why does the sky change its color?)

A sweet smile spread across her face, but her attention was still on my cousin, who was nibbling on some chocolate. "So you notice?" she replied, now fully looking at me.

"Yes, I notice the changing colors, and I wonder why. Is there any reason behind it? A story, perhaps?" I asked eagerly.

She chuckled softly and said, "It's said that in the rainy season, these colors hint to the farmers that rain is near, so they can prepare to sow their seeds." She stood up from the charpai and continued, "And these colors are like the seeds of rain themselves."

"But Dadi, I don't see any scientific reason in that story. How am I supposed to believe it?" I questioned.

"Not everything needs science, my dear. Sometimes, believing in stories is what makes us happy, and you don’t need proof to be happy" she replied.

I shrugged it off playfully and helped her close our small shop. I took my cousin into my arms as we walked outside.

"Let's go home; it looks like it might rain," Grandma observed, glancing at the sky.

"It's okay, Dadi; it won’t rain. We can sit beneath this tree for a while. It’s so beautiful," I insisted.

We sat on the rocks in our courtyard, feeling the calm of the evening settle around us.

"Do you know there's another story about this?" Grandma asked, her voice teasingly soft.

"About what?" I asked, curious.

"The sky changing its colors," she said with a knowing smile.

"Really? Are you going to tell me?" I leaned in, eager for more.

"But you always want a scientific reason for everything," she teased.

I smiled, raising my hands in surrender. "Okay, I promise I won't question it. Can you tell me now?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes searching the sky. "It's said that the sun and the sky are lovers, and when they meet at the horizon at sunset, they express their love through these different colors. The colors show how beautifully the sky welcomes the sun."

"So, it's a love story?" I whispered, my heart fluttering at the thought.

She looked at me, her eyes warm. "Do you believe it?"

"I—" I started to reply, but then I felt a cool drop on my hand, and another on my face. It was raining.

"See, I told you it would rain," Grandma laughed softly, taking my cousin by the hand. "Come inside before you catch a cold."

As I stood there, looking up at the sky, I wondered,

"Do I believe? In love? In stories? Do I?"

[the-artsy-plant]

Worst feeling ever is being an IBS haver during finals week.

Cause wdym I’m only 17 pages into my 25 page thesis draft due in 2 days but im stuck with SHIT in my ASS on the TOILET 💔 and the SHIT won’t LEAVE MY BODY

Oh I also have in-person exams I haven’t studied for at all cause I’ve been too busy SHITTING OUT OF MY ASS INSTEAD OF STUDYING 💔💔

[vespertinefantasy]

I definitely need to romanticize my life more.

[immortalsapphics]

yall so a few weeks ago i was in a cafe and there was a cute girl and my friend was like dude she likes you and i was like nahhh and then today another friend brought me there and the girl was there wearing an mcr shirt coffee shop au WHEN??

[grenadinexo]

went to my local library today got 2 books out that i’m SO excited to read >:3

[stuntgirlatthevampiremansion]

Tattoo artist by day

Concert photographer/visual artist by night

[wistfulwillows]

Just reached 100 miles on my fantasy hike app!!!

[itsprobablyavery]

uh oh

“how’s your summer going?”

me:

[miojiinho]

there is something so beautiful about being dumb as fuck

[fairydrowning]

Posting this here for everyone!!

[uvxblu]

study date (ft. just me)

[appareils-futiles]

Don't mind me just romanticizing my life, as an American Anglophile, by living in England.

↳˳🐚;; ❝ like or reblog if u use/save, dont repost or copy ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: @itscolour

[friendlyneighborhoodshark]

HOW TO ACTIVATE YOUR HAPPINESS CHEMICALS

Dopamine (pleasure + reward)

Sleep

Go outside

Be creative

Complete a task

Doing something new

Celebrate the small wins

Serotonin (the mood stabilizer)

Running

Meditating

Practice yoga

Walk in nature

Relax in the sun

Oxytocin (the love hormone)

Hug someone

Play with a cat/dog

Random acts of kindness

Give someone a compliment

Quality time with friends and family

Endorphins (the pain relief/distresser)

Laughing

Essential oils

Take a hot bath

Watch a comedy

Eating dark chocolate

[epiph-annie]

your presence haunts my memory

[shushmal]

Steve never tells anyone about it, but in the back of his closet is a duffle bag of clothes, and a wallet.

His grandpa gave him the wallet with two dollars in it, probably intending it to be Steve's first wallet to go buy milkshakes with after school. It was so long ago that Steve doesn't really remember receiving it—only that it was his grandfather's old wallet, black leather worn on the edges.

He never uses the two dollars for milkshakes. Instead, he stuffs whatever spare cash he has into it, hides it down in the bottom of the duffle bag beneath spare clothes and a set of shoes. The year he turns fourteen, there's a box in the mail, new leather, brown and unyielding. This is the one that sits like lead weight in his back pocket.

Sometimes, he pulls the bag out of his closet, pulls everything out of it, obsessively repacks it. Counts the cash. Re-laces the shoes.

When he's sixteen and gifted the car, he stares at it longingly and knows he'd never make it out of Indiana with a car that belongs to his father.

Then Will Beyers goes missing. Then Barbara Holland dies. Then his gets his heart broken. Then he meets his best friend. Then he meets his soul mate. Then and then and then.

But the duffle bag is still sitting in the back of his closet. He takes it out, re-packs his clothes, counts the cash, replaces the shoes with something sturdier.

Then he falls in love with a man wanted for murder. A man only safe for as long as the hospital keeps him as a patient. And it's an easy decision—one he's been wanting to make for so, so long—for much more selfish, lonely reasons.

So he takes the truck keys from Wayne, and he sneaks into the hospital after midnight. They're across the county line before the hour is up, his duffle bag hidden under the passenger seat now, this time with Eddie's bookbag stuffed alongside it.