I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of “madness”. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: “Poor thing, she’s crazy!” (Above all, I would laugh at my own stupidity.) I would build my world which while I lived, would be in agreement with all the worlds. The day, or the hour, or the minute that I lived would be mine and everyone else’s — my madness would not be an escape from “reality”.

Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait  (via chandr-a)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)



When I want to sleep the most, he is the worst to sleep with.


Boy moves around when he’s fast asleep. Won’t respond to me talking or nudging him at all. Every time I start to doze off he kicks or rolls in some direction. Aaaaaah I just wanna sleep!

Even now I can hear him thrashing around in our room. :( Sleep tonight might require some help.