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Sometimes I fantasize about disappearing.
Not dying.
Just logging off.
Getting a job no one cares about.
Growing tomatoes.
Writing poems in the margins of a notebook no one reads.
Not as a failure.
But as a kind of freedom.
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i love it when a woman slowly steps out of survival mode and starts to fall in love with life again. when her zest for life comes back and when she starts to notice all the magic and blessings around her, it’s the most beautiful thing to witness.
I had absolutely no idea about this background…. thanks to this explanation, I start to see it a little more clearly
