Photograph of artist Georgia O’Keeffe in the desert with one of her paintings.
When I was like 9, my brother found a wild baby rabbit limping in our neighborhood, so he brought it home to nurse back to health, and I named him Rabbi Peterson. My parents insisted that we keep him in a cat carrier at all times, but I would wake up in the middle of the night and get him out to cuddlle with, and we would fall asleep together, and my mom would come in to wake me up and find him all snugged up on my chest every morning. She made us set him free after like a week though. I miss him.
You buy The Fault in Our Stars but you don’t read it. It’s a metaphor, see: you put the killing thing right in your shelf, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.
i feel like ppl dont appreciate how hard ive worked to strike the perfect balance between self deprecating humour and very exaggerated vanity
money can’t buy happiness but it can buy a false sense of security and fruity alcoholic beverages to numb the pain and honestly what’s the difference