the front bottoms
riot fest / humboldt park, chicago, IL
I am terribly sorry to hear about your lack of sheep. I’m not sure if they got out or if someone stole them, but I’m sure they’ll find their ways back home. Contrary to popular belief, sheep are actually pretty intelligent creatures. Animal intelligence should not be based off of their ability to listen to humans, and thus many animals are deemed dense and dim-witted to the vast public. I’m sure you know all about that, seeing as how you own sheep, or used to, at any rate. I’m not sure if you’re in the shepherding business or what (I hear that’s pretty lucrative these days), but I hope your precious sheep return.
Physical attraction is very important and I have a hard time believing anyone who disagrees with that statement. It’s not shallow at all to have a desire to find your counterpart aesthetically appealing. Physical attraction is something that helps draw you to a person, especially initial attraction. Sure, all that seems to fade away after you get to know them, and you see them for who they are, not what they look like, but it’s nice to look over on the other side of your bed and see the most beautiful creature you’ve ever encountered. The only way it’s a shallow incentive is if that’s the only reason you’re with that person. Personality is far more important than looks. The way you interact with each other and understand each other on an unspoken level holds so much more of a priority in a relationship, but looks are still important in a romantic relationship. You want to be attracted to them on all levels.
What attracts me is rather elementary: A simple lady whose love for the color black is only surpassed by her love of the arts - the type of person who makes you forget what time it is and has you smiling so much that you forget how crooked your teeth are - a delicate creature so enamored with the fact that they are alive that they forget to change their shirt the next day. That, to me, is a someone who is entirely beautiful.
The cup is in the trash, spilling its remains all over your dreams. You’re going to die alone.
You don’t. You learn to live your life as part, and not a whole.
Who taught you how to hate yourself?
Who forced you to confide in spell?