(Source: twitter.com, via dabatude)
(Source: puthas, via riseafterfalling)
He is exactly the poem I wanted to write. — Mary Oliver, excerpt from “White Heron Rises Over Blackwater” (via larmoyante)
I deleted your texts but I still remember exactly what they said — midnight thoughts of a broken heart (via coyotegold)
(Source: reality-escape-artist, via this-sucks-because-of-you)
He will brush against your thigh and pretend that he didn’t, and he’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he likes them. He will take the band out of your ponytail because he likes your hair long, he will let you listen to his favourite song and it will get stuck in your head. He will kiss your lips until they are numb and he will hold your hands until they go numb too. Don’t watch the sunset with him, because you won’t be able to watch it again without missing the smell of his cologne. Don’t make him call you by your nickname, because afterwards you won’t be able to hear it. Your heart will be heavy and so will your head but just remember you were beautiful before he said so. — some advice i gave to a friend (via desc-end)
(Source: dead-and-scarred, via riseafterfalling)
I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore. — Marguerite Duras, from Hiroshima, Mon Amour (via ridingsidesaddle)
I dreamt about you last night. It was surreal, in a way. We were hanging out in my driveway again beside your car. We just talked, and you laughed. You looked so happy. I was happy, too.
I’d forgotten why you’d made such an impact on me, but that dream was a nice, gentle reminder.
I hope you’re doing well.
Being happy is a very personal thing—and it really has nothing to do with anyone else . — Abraham Hicks, Getting Into the Vortex (via horrid-child)
(Source: thefarawaydreamer, via i-hate-the-beach)