{fro-moi has been slowly dying ✽　✾　Image and video hosting by TinyPic∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙Image and video hosting by TinyPic 『♥』* f r o - m o i * ☯
『♥』* f r o - m o i * ☯
, ' hi,my name is laraah, that's my cute blog! i hope you enjoy!
☆ p e r s o n a l ☆ l i n k s / m e ☆ a s k ☆
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ホウチャクソウで撮影 ☆*:.｡. ____________________________________
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irrelavant: the things I would for legs this size
featherumbrellas: lmfaoswed: m-ayflower: the last sentence :( Everything is perfect until the last sentence… I think i’ve got a million comments about the last sentence, but that’s the entire point to the poem. You fall in love with the feeling of being wanted, you fall in love with the places you visit, the routine, and mostly you fall in love with being comfortable. You are there because you want to be able to love that person, but you can’t force yourself, and you won’t. 
mausehase: Pale & Pure
fro-moi: Collage made by me
thewatersustainsme: Are we really so different that we must be horrified of one of them uncovered, and completely okay with the other?
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