Find what makes your blood sing. Then think those thoughts. Breathe that in. Live that life.

Find what makes you stop. What sucks all the air out of you and then fills you up until you’ll nearly pop.

Find what makes joy leak from your eyes. Cry those tears until the beds run dry. Watering the parched earth around you.

Find the sprouting flowers you have nursed. Do not pick them.

For you never know, flowers may just make someone’s blood sing.

(Rando journal entry from me to you)



(Views like this are what makes my blood sing)

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