Honestly this whole “shepherd living in a cottage in the middle of eastern europe/scandinavia” fantasy is my healthiest form of escapism yet. Who cares if I’m completely ignoring my deeper traumas. I’m planting cabbage into the soft wet earth bitch
my mental illness: hey bitch
me: *sitting on the porch surrounded by vines and plants, kulning to the cows, playing a nyckelharpa and watching the shadows of the clouds on the far-off mountains* Freyja has given me her blessing, creature. Begone from this place.
(Source: lovemug, via of-themysciraa)
