Like most sensitive souls, you already know you’re sensitive.
You soak up others’ moods and desires like a sponge. You absorb sensation the way a paintbrush grasps each color it touches on a palette. The ethereal beauty of a dandelion, the shift of a season, the climax of a song, or a certain stirring scent can evoke such wonder it’ll behave as your very breath itself- moving through cells as fuel does to fire and wind does to waves.
people who complain about “getting too many asks”
people who get straight A’s and every test they say “im so gonna fail”
People who say their art sucks when its clearly amazing
Having a student who just can’t pass his fucking driver’s test
There are these little tiny fuzzy bugs that are flying around my pear tree and I kind of want to call them cute but I feel like the second I do someone’s gonna tell me they’re like the spawns of satan and they sting people and kill my trees
Nevermind they’re called “Woolly Aphids” and they’re literal fairies
I feel bad for calling them evil now they’re so frickin cute