Had I seen this earlier in life, I’d have insisted my parents get one for the dining room. Seeing as I’d have been the ONLY person willing (*cough*…desiring) to sit in it, there’d have been no need to fight over who sits where.
Seriously… This dark and dreary investment could have single-handedly prevented sibling-fueled fights. . .
There are times in Life when it seems all light extinguishes, leaving blackness, fear, and despair.
And yet. . .
In the midst of it. . .if we look deep without our inner recesses, we will find the inextinguishable flame we’ve carried all along.
Remember what you have accomplished. Remember the demons you’ve conquered, the tears and blood you’ve shed. For you are a warrior, stronger than anyone else can ever know. You are a survivor, you are beautiful, and you are a beacon of light in spite of all.
Yes, yes…that’s what I said. Ice Cream for Goth chicks.
If lactose wasn’t so vehemently opposed to my stomach, and ice cream wouldn’t so zealously affix itself to my body, I would be seeking out Little Damage Ice Cream forthwith.
I don’t *totally* get the “unicorn” craze – I can respect the love of iridescence, absolutely, but I feel like this is getting to be a little overboard. Whatever. . .I’d go crazy for black ice cream regardless, just because…but as it squashing the overwhelming barrage of rainbow swirls left and right, I have to say I’m smiling ear to ear. . .
Goth girl getting back at the illusory and evanescent concept that is the prismatic unicorn? Maybe. . . But I think it’s more directed at the onslaught of look-at-pink-and-blue-sparkly-anime-eyed-me’s.
I’m not a trend follower, though – there it is. I lean towards the caliginous so despite my personal penchant for glitter, I’d ditch it for black without a second thought.
I mean, black and red ombre?! Holy shit, I’m in heaven!!!
All I can say is these cones, black as night, and the dark-and-dreary hued ice cream is up my alley and beyond. Had this been more prevalent when I was little, you better believe I’d have had it in place of birthday cake at my parties. Too bad, five year-olds, you can deal without pink for five minutes.
The humor of the darker days…
Fortunately the shortest day passed already, so it’s onwards and upwards…with less feels-like-12am breakouts.
Just because I adore her. . .