I’ll miss you Utah. Thank you for all the memories and helping me become more me 🥰
Inspiration is everywhere!
That’s one thing about us humans, we always think we have all the time in the world, but we scarcely do realise that nothing is permanent.
She said one thing which left me thinking about it for the rest of the day.
These six amazing and cool lasses have been my whole world in school. We do know a lot about each other but not everything…..that’s what makes us special in our own way. I’m just really glad to have these people in my life. They make it more interesting and colourful.
It doesn’t matter if you have a small group of friends or a large one…. even having a few friends that actually care about you is much better than having a large friend group where most of them don’t give a shit about you.
Go find atleast one friend who gives a damn about you and before you know it…you have won life. Stay safe peeps!!✌️✌️
RIP to Dave Prowse (Darth Vader). Here he is as a young man in Bristol with my Granddad.
Saturday morning study session 📊📚
(Biggest goal: buy a new computer for Christmas..😄🙏
but what makes us strangers?
I miss pre COVID on call. We’d bleep the anaesthetists and they’d be all *whats up* and we’d be like, nothing, come get a bacon sandwich, or egg or whatever combo you fucking want. Everything was chill and no one was that crazy and now everyone is. I miss peaceful Sunday’s. Can people STOP stabbing each other.
Also yet another person shooti their mouth off about people who’ve tested the vaccines. Thanks. I’m one and I’m nkt stupid. You want a vaccine right. Someone has to test it. Thats how this shit works.
The imprint of your lips upon my skin.
The hold of your arms around my hips.
The one I never got to kiss.
3 loves. Still a fairytale. But with no happy endings.
Waking up to the light of day is a unique moment.
Feel that you’ve managed to get through another day.
But on Sundays it’s about waking up and doing nothing.
Saturday is the past, and Monday the future.
How to explain Sunday, how to explain an unusual day.
Where the opposite is done, nothing.
On Sundays my room is bigger, on Sunday my dreams are more than nothing.
Because it is not the day to fight, it is the day to create them.
As I am doing now.
Some Sundays I feel the cold, the weight of the rain.
Even though the sound of birds outside is loud.
In my room the shadows echo the worst in me.
How do I make them stop; let them in.
It’s about the light outside, it’s about the darkness in this room.
The lamp turned on is not enough, the monster under the bed.
The beginning and the end of the day, the feelings.
The boy and the man, my mind.
A being in dichotomy.
a image from my gallery, i don’t know much more about it!
see you in next sunday s2