And through timeless words and priceless pictures / We'll fly like birds not of this earth / And tides they turn and hearts disfigure / But that's no concern when we're wounded together / And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts / But it's nice today, oh the wait was so worth it
Wednesday, December 17
Everytime I blink, I feel like a thousand little bees are stinging me. Those little bastards.
The price to pay for vanity. D:
(To those in the unknown, I lasered off some milia seeds near my eyes, & now they're SLOWLY healing, which explains the scabbing, which is damn bloody ugly & making me sad & gosh, the pain whenever I squeeze my eyes shut!)