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i'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way
A sudden shock of autumn, these past two days, chilled air and rough breezes. Time spent relearning the sun has left its mark, leaving me with thinned blood and little tolerance for cold.
Except I like to be cold, if only for the way it feels to warm up again. It's best when caught in a rainstorm, soaked through and icy-marrowed, just for the luxury of stripping down and into thick swaddling clothes, and blankets, and tea, and an undeniable warmth. I like to earn my small pleasures.
One of my plants has quite unexpectedly died, and I feel rather bereft. This, also, is why I cannot have children. I can't even keep small plants alive, and they want only water and love.
Except I like to be cold, if only for the way it feels to warm up again. It's best when caught in a rainstorm, soaked through and icy-marrowed, just for the luxury of stripping down and into thick swaddling clothes, and blankets, and tea, and an undeniable warmth. I like to earn my small pleasures.
One of my plants has quite unexpectedly died, and I feel rather bereft. This, also, is why I cannot have children. I can't even keep small plants alive, and they want only water and love.