|—||Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait (via onlinebabe)|
Real Estate, Had To Hear
I’m lying awake in bed unable to sleep, feeling the small flutters of my son’s tiny kicks inside me, with my daughter sleeping soundly at my side.
I’m trapped in my mind that’s screaming how much I cannot again do this alone, and I’m crying, and I’m shaking.
I’m so lost, I’m so scared.
|—||Robert Goolrick, The End of the World as We Know It (via stxxz)|
And meet me there, bundles of flowers, we wait through the hours of cold.