I Can Turn You Into Poetry But I Cannot Make You Love Me.

you are the grief i remember you as

fortesa latifi // fleabag // j. estanislao lopez // @promqueendyke // okechukwu nzelu // glennon doyle melton.

“ⓘ Reblog if you’re bisexual, gay, lesbian, asexual, pansexual, transgender or a supporter.”

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“I’m sorry that someone you loved made you think it’s hard to love you.”

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It’s God, isn’t it?

Franz Kafka, 1912

its all about sibling relationships, actually

the hollies/tiktok/unknown/wolf conservation center/belle and sebastian/unknown/dustin pearson/fleabag/ajr

Reaper is everything.

The respect he had for the other tributes. The grave he made for the fallen tributes. He was completely exposed and could have been killed by anyone, but recognizing those kids and respecting them the way they deserve was more important to him. The way he tore down the symbol of the government that was supposed to protect them, and used it to cover the bodies of the kids it failed so badly. His calm demeanor. The love he had for his sick and fragile district partner. The love he had for Wovey. The way he protected those gentle souls the best he could. He didn't even try to fight. He knew he wasn't going to kill any of these kids. He's the original revolution. He wasn't going to play the capitol's games. He didn't let them turn him into something he's not. He is everything good.

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.”

— Anita Ofokansi, Literary Sexts