There's always not enough sunny days, skylark's songs, slices of a cake and minutes in an hour. Not that I'm repining, but everything happens too fast. I don't understand why. I don't want to understand.
However, I know one thing for sure – I want to climb over there, be on the top of the world. On the top of my world. It is small, almost as tiny as painted lady's teacup, although I love it, it is mine. You love everything until a person you also love shows you how ugly it looks.
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to begin with, the sweet grass by mary oliver, from “devotions”
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Trying to remember the last time I played hide and seek. The last time I said hi to everyone on the street or saw the girls I spent every day of six years with. The last time my dad picked me up, or my mum brushed my hair. When was the last time I dressed without consideration? There is so much to think about now. I remember falling on the grass at school and making stories with the clouds. Hanging upside down from the swing and realising how big the world was. I wonder on the path of growing when we stop feeling big. I am taller now, smaller still.
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another news article from a nepo baby about the alleged terrifying “antisemitic” atmosphere and perils of supporting israel at the most elite and expensive private schools in the country that cater to the every whim of the children of the bourgeoisie and petit bourgeoisie lol
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I love an intelligent man. It’s incredibly sexy.
An intelligent man who loves art and literature and can discuss both with me for hours.
An intelligent man who is passionate about his hobbies and talks enthusiastically about them, eyes sparkling with excitement.
An intelligent man who is unable to form coherent sentences once I’ve fucked him stupid.
An intelligent man whose eyes are shut because his brain only remembers my name, and how good my pussy feels around his cock.
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