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.°. Miss Sunflower .°.

Hey, it’s Sleepy. Welcome back to thesleepyfiles. I hope you’re doing well.

I’m going to be honest and say that I actually posted this on my Tumblr two or three weeks ago, but I was so embarrassed by it that I literally just deleted the whole thing and avoided it for a while bc it hurt me in my soul to admit that much to the public 🙃

I must’ve made 5 drafts of this post, five confessions of how stupid I am, how blinded I am when it comes to love, and how I’m refusing to love again for fear of ruining myself for a 3rd time in my life. I can never figure out where to start when it comes to describing this person, because the idea for this drawing came when I decided to meet one of my best friends in person after we both survived our first semester in college.

This friend of mine complicates my life, and has been doing so for 2 years. Suddenly we had to spend more time together and I caught feelings. Somehow, after my ex cheating on me 8 months prior and leaving me feeling abandoned, I had a crush again on a girl I was barely becoming friends with. You’ve probably read so many love stories, so many variations of romance, so I’m not going to go too in depth into what happened with us, but I started to fall. Hard. For no reason, none I could identify. She was my friend, she was becoming one of my best friends, my platonic soulmate.

And the two of us were blurring the line between platonic and romantic. I was too embarrassed to write about her with her real name at the time, so I started calling her Miss Sunflower. I can’t quite remember why. I didn’t have a favorite flower until I could associate one with her. I already called her Superwoman, what was one more nickname? One that was private, one only I knew? Superwoman, who was crazy smart and a badass soccer player, someone quiet but also 100% capable of kicking ass to protect who she needed to. Superwoman who was irritated early morning and easily annoyed by the people she didn’t like. Then Miss Sunflower, the side of her who melted into me after long school days or on the bus home from competitions. Miss Sunflower who perked up when I couldn’t find the energy in me to be loud and energetic and decided to be loud for the both of us, Miss Sunflower who plopped her head on my shoulder when she saw I was sad and slid her fingertips up my wrist to hold my hand. Miss Sunflower who let me press her lips to her jaw and looked at me like I was something lovely with her arms around my waist and our foreheads pressed together.

It’s weird I guess, how you can go from being so close, how I fell so hard for the way she looked at me and pressed me into her chest. And now, after she pulled back and admitted that maybe we should stay friends, we barely talk. I got left in the dust a bit. It still hurts, and I hate it. Because I had an epiphany the other day, trying to think of why I STILL missed someone who broke my heart, used me as an experiment, and can’t even look me in the eyes anymore for reasons I don’t even know. I realized that though I missed her, I also miss who I was when I was with her.

I miss that point in time, where I was happy and the future was blurry but I was grounding myself to the present. I miss her arms around my waist but I also miss that person she was holding, the one who was achingly tired but constantly surrounded by people they loved and wanted to care for. Someone distracted from all the turmoil in their head, watching sunsets and going to coffee shops with their friends, driving around late at night with the music playing softly, safe and secure. I’m aching for my friend, for Miss Sunflower. Not even romantically. And I’m aching for who I used to be, for the person I was hiding under all that sunshine. I know it was real, my happiness was vibrant. I just didn’t know this version of me existed.

I want to be ok again. I want to look Miss Sunflower in the eyes, and not feel broken or wrong anymore. I want to feel like her friend, not a dirty secret she was hiding. Not something to be ashamed of.

That’s all there is to it.


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I need some new blogs to follow!

Reblog or like this post so I can find all you lovely people and make my dashboard a hive of inspiration ♡

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Embracing the pale Vamp look for winter


Ive swapped my gym passion for art this lockdown

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ive only read story one of homesick for another world by ottessa moshfegh and it’s nothing short of sensational

hand painting by me

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Aesthetics as girls I have loved

✨ ragged blue hair and fishnet tights, fingers stained with iodine, the feeling you get right before a thunderstorm, eyes like ice reflecting the color of the sky, an unspoken, tongue-tied love that could be mistaken for admiration

🫀 running through a field of flowers, warm hugs, the intimacy of braiding someone’s hair for them, a voice that makes words sound like honey, the salty taste of bittersweet tears, a friendship where “i love you” might mean more than you say

🍒 the adrenaline of a roller coaster drop, watching fireworks and holding hands, red lipstick and ripped black jeans, hands with a grip that could leave a bruise, the last sip of vodka from the bottle, a love that ignites sparks that burn you both a little bit

🌙 dancing in the last of the evening light, writing your names on doorframes in buildings you’ll never enter again, dark hair that is always slightly tangled, late night phonecalls, reading poetry together, the secret type of love that you can only see in their eyes

🥀 hands covered in dirt and blood, a voice that is both hypnotic and warm, long nights and tearstained cheeks, writing love letters that are never sent, the sweetness and the sting of the honeybee, a bitter and broken love that drags you down and tries to strangle you

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