(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)
(Source: whoxxknows, via riseafterfalling)
I am thinking of you.
What else can I say? — Margaret Atwood, from Postcards (via letgoandgrabon)
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via anditslove)
One day, whether you
you will stumble upon
someone who will start
a fire in you that cannot die.
However, the saddest,
most awful truth
you will ever come to find––
is they are not always
with whom we spend our lives. — Beau Taplin, "The Awful Truth" (via le-crystal)
(Source: afadthatlastsforever, via childhoo-d)
I just want you to know that it’s your fault that you’ve hurt me. You asked me for more, more, more, more, more and I gave it, and suddenly it was all too much. You didn’t let me protect myself the way I would’ve…the way I should’ve…
(Source: sadisfy, via you-aremysunshine)