I need to do something to make myself happy. Maybe that means sacrificing something I want and settling for something I know I deserve. Its hard when feelings get in the way but I can’t keep doing this… its just hurting myself.
The moment I made the terrible realization that I had fallen in love, irrevocably and completely, it was peaceful. In a way, what I imagine dying is like. A smooth certainty; sliding into place with a muffled click, like that of a key in a lock. I was in love. The memory of his warmth against…
Long-awaited hamster story.
Yes, it’s 100% true.
The text’s a little inconsistent and please forgive the grammatical errors. A few were purposeful. I formatted the text at around 6 in the morning after a few sleepless days.
Regardless, I hope you enjoy
MORGAN IM OBSESSED AND NEED A COPY
In the 19th Century having a photograph taken was a lengthy process. Frustrated by the difficulties of getting children to sit still long enough to snap a proper photo, photographers in the 1800’s conceived of a technique called “The Hidden Mother”. Draping a sheet over the mothers head in an attempt to camouflage her as a part of the furniture to better emphasize the child, the mother was then able to hold her infant and keep them still long enough for the camera to get an exposure. Vintage photographs already have a eerie feel to them, but these images of moms as cloaked phantoms take the creep factor to the next level.
oh my fucking god
(via greasyheart)
