(Source: highspeedillusion, via kaeandlucy)
We took in a stray cat that had a nasty eye infection, so bad that we had to take his eyes out. Being completely blind, one of our older cats decided to take care and help him around the house. I found them later asleep like this.
(via kaeandlucy)
I think my upstairs neighbour is having a party. So you know where’ I’ll be!
… on my sofa, under my blanket, with a book.
i love miranda hart. i also love words.
(via kaeandlucy)
new sewing project. exciting. sort of. also annoying because it takes so fucking long to execute what’s already finished in my head…
3 stories
(i have had this saved in my drafts for at least 2 years. i don’t know why i’m posting this now but i have been feeling anxious, bored and lonely and unable to express myself. i’m not sure posting this will help, but at least i feel like i’m communicating something to someone.)
1.
One of my earliest memories is from when I was about 3 years old. It was before we moved to the town I spent the rest of my childhood and teenage years in. We lived in a small house and I had probably just become not an only child anymore. The people next door had two daughters that were a few years older than me. To my recollection they were my best friends.
They had a typewriter and one of the sisters was learning how to type. The keys on the keyboard all had different colour covers over them. One day I was looking at the typewriter trying to figure out how it worked (without touching it!) and the girl said I could type something - anything I wanted - if I wanted to. I refused because I didn’t know which fingers were supposed to go onto wich colours. I remember my refusal and nothing they said could convince me that it didn’t matter which finger went where.
2.
In kindergarten, when I was about 4 or 5, I once found a wrapped candy somewhere in the classroom. I remember asking the other kids if it was theirs. It didn’t belong to anyone so I ate it. Then one of the boys told me it was his ‘medicin’ and that I would get sick now because it wasn’t meant for me. I was anxious, stressed out and worried for days (maybe even longer) after that. I can distinctly remember being so, so worried and scared.
3.
When I was 11 my father killed himself.
