tristao (tristao)

Progress, not perfection.

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I find comfort in the familiar—the creak of a favorite chair, the taste of a well-loved meal, the sound of a friend’s voice on the phone.

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The best kind of love is the one that lets me be fully myself—no pretending, no hiding parts of me, just being accepted for who I am.

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Every time I walk alone at night is so afraid, the sky is so dark, I am so beautiful, I am really afraid that others can not see ah

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You're too pretty to be strong.

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There are five kinds of spicy in the world, mild spicy, spicy, spicy, and Emperor Ama, he is hot

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The departure of youth, the air filled with the taste of separation this zen sound curl up in the summer and there are a group of people busy remembering the past.

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