My name is Kat. I am a 20-year-old art student living in Louisville, Kentucky.
"i’m not bitter" i say, bitterly, with a bitter expression
This is the best pic ive seen in a long time.
Guys you don’t understand how awesome this is. This pattern happens everywhere. It happens on flowers and pinecones absolutely vegetables, it happens all around you. If you don’t think that’s like the realist shit ever i don’t understand you.It’s insane how the universe is literally full of beauty to the point that we can’t even see some of it. Beautiful down to the way it moves.
this is so cool
I was extremely kissable today and do you know how many kisses I received??? ZERO
if someone wants to wear a crop top and u say anything negative i will personally come to your house and beat you with your keyboard
Seattle Based: Spring Reflections
Apr. 18, 2014
Photo by chaptervixiv.
Location: Renton, Washington
The sunshine is back after two days of gloom.
Spring is here and I’ve never been so in love.
My head is in the clouds.
Had two interviews today and felt confident about both.
I am so thirsty for emotional and physical intimacy with someone
I want to nuzzle their neck and lay entwined on my bed and lazily kiss their lips and make them food and get to know every single curve and contour they have
I want to touch someone with my finger tips and make them feel loved
like, I just wanna cuddle. Is that so much to ask?
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do."