Just breathe, this is only temporary.
Six Word Poem (via happy-absturz)
(Source: thxxxghts, via l-eer)
And I thought there should be a word for this sort of thing ― when your last dream mimics your first waking moment. Shouldn’t there be a beautiful word for that.
Marjorie Celona, Y (via pniepple)
It’s sad, isn’t it?
How we defend people who treat us like absolute shit?
N,E.W., they told me you didn’t deserve me, and I told them they didn’t know what they were talking about. (via misehry)
I’m attracted to intelligence. Not the book smart type of intelligence. I could care less whether you’ve gone to college or how much money you make because of it. I like intelligent conversations that make me think even hours after it’s ended. I soak up words from radical minds.
I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore.
Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959)
(Source: teenager90s, via vodkacupcakes)
The weather varies between heavy fog and pale sunshine; My thoughts follow the exact same process.
Virginia Woolf, 21 April 1918 (via wordsthat-speak)
Last night I learned if you drink enough alcohol it tastes like love.
k.s (via darling-your-my-demon)
if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands
(Source: anachronica, via decidement)