When he died, all things swift and beautiful and bright would be buried with him. The rosy gleam of his lip, the fevered green of his eyes. There was not a line anywhere on his face, nothing creased or graying; all crisp. He was spring, golden and bright. Envious
Death would drink his blood, and grow young again.

-the song of Achilles

کوبیدن سر خودم به دیوار چون نمی‌تونم بابامو بندازم چرخ گوشت

خیلی خوشگله یه گریه ای کردم

اصلا فکرشم نمیکردم نقاشی با وایتکس انقدر سخت باشه😦

بهم ایده بدید روی این بوم چی بکشم

منتالی دختر دپرست ابیوز شده یه دو تا پدر گی ادمخوارم

My comfort show (it ruined my life )

Was it casual when you dedicated your whole life to saving me?
Was it casual when you waited a dozen years for me after my death?
Was it casual when you gave me your mother's sigal, the only thing that was left of her?
Was it casual when you said you would willingly give your life for me?
Was it casual when you forgave me anyway when you found out that I was lying to you all this time, and told me to always be myself?