vainhearted:

me currently: can’t wait to get hot in a few years!

me later: can’t wait for adulthood to work its magic!!!!!!

me on my death bed: maybe i’ll be a hot corpse?¿

She was a bird. Her head was always up in the clouds, yearning for freedom. But her ankles were always chained, reality weighing down her hopes and dreams. They imprisoned her in their expectations, exercising control and suffocation at all times. They answered her pleas for help with lashings that eventually silenced her forevermore. The sole wish she had was to be up in the sky so everyday she’d let the chains bite her flesh so that they might wear down and break. After years of resistance that left unhealable wounds she finally freed herself from captivity. But her guards refused to let her escape; they needed to contain her even in her dying hours so they grounded her — six feet beneath the cold, hard soil.