What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.
Omfg I was sitting in a room with a bunch of my aunts, uncles and cousins and my grandma had this weird smile on her face so I asked her what was up and she just looked at me and said “everyone in this house is alive thanks to my vagina”
Catching Fire: Favourite characters
because of her, they all pose a threat
I hate them. But, of course I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.
All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end and when they do, it’s only an opportunity for another story to begin.