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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤa safe place without ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ any annoying people ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤa little girl who prefers ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsolitude to everything Bot: @laxxrabot
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314
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314
i hope youre ok
i hope the sun and moon shine only for you i hope you dream of a giant
bunny plushie coming alive to
keep you safe and protected and
i hope you wake up and its real
314
i hope youre ok
i hope the sun and moon shine only for you i hope you dream
of a giant
bunny plushie coming alive to
keep you safe and protected
and i hope you wake up
and its real
314
she always looks clean & fresh, spend smost
of her time on herself and is always kind to everyone
314
she always looks clean & fresh
spends most
of her time on herself and is always kind to everyone
314
she always looks clean & fresh, spends most
of her time on herself and is always kind to
everyone
314
she always looks clean & fresh, spends most
of her time on herself and is always kind to
everyone.
314
“it’s just flowers”
but i’m just a girl. and flowers will never be
just flowers for me. they’re a reminder that
someone thought of me, that someone cared
enough to make me feel special without me
having to ask. it’s not about how pretty or
expensive they are, it’s about the effort, the
thought, and the love behind the gesture.
i don’t want flowers i begged for, i want them
given freely because someone wanted to make
me smile. because for me, as a girl, flowers
mean everything.
314
slits, | could
just make out the circular motions of your
replica train, stubbled blue walls, sleep
clothes the size of widespread hands laid out
on the bed. | wanted to say I'd like to stay,
please, but my lips could not catch the
words. If this is where you once were, you are
not here anymore. Your memory is a river and
am ankle-deep, looking for tadpoles. | swing
my net, but it comes up empty—the
314
slits, | could
just make out the circular motions of your
replica train, stubbled blue walls, sleep
clothes the size of widespread hands laid out
on the bed. | wanted to say I'd like to stay,
please, but my lips could not catch the
words. If this is where you once were, you are
not here anymore. Your memory is a river and
am ankle-deep, looking for tadpoles. | swing
my net, but it comes up empty—the
tangibility of this world dissipates in the
absence of your touch, and you will never
come here again. The thought makes me feel
so sick that | sink to my knees, clutching my
heart. Hidden behind a door, two doors, A
three. Listening out for that knock-knocking.
