I Wish I Was A Little More Delicate
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"I was happy, but happy is an adult word. You don’t have to ask a child about happy, you see it. They are or they are not. Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not. Talking about it is the same as trying to catch the wind. Much easier to let it blow all over you. This is where I disagree with the philosophers. They talk about passionate things but there is no passion in them. Never talk happiness with a philosopher."

- Jeanette Winterson (via observando)

(via thediminishingoftime)

"People always say that it hurts at night
and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am
is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken.
But sometimes
it’s 9am on a tuesday morning
and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much
you don’t know what to do with your hands."

- Rosie Scanlan, “On Missing Them” (via missinyouiskillingme)

(via oh-ofallon)

visual-poetry:

»all things pass« by darren almond (+)
woahyeti:

!!!
unadoptable:

July 16, 2014

something that has been sitting in my wallet for months now that i wrote at a party i really hated attending // r.i.d
ccuntly:


photo i took in montreal when i was with fred

"I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, More Than Just A House (via canhappenlove)

(via distanza)

dorouuable:

Last day at Our Lady of Lourdes Elementary School! Munting Batangas, Balanga. Philippines

A poem on my worst fear is four words long 

ellestanger:

I saw this at 3 a.m. I like.

"

sometimes I kiss people I shouldn’t kiss and let them unbutton my jeans sometimes I leave English class without asking and walk in angular circles until I can hear the blood rushing under my skin sometimes I run until I can’t breathe sometimes I sit in the rain sometimes I sleep for six hours in the middle of the day

sometimes I drive too fast and listen to my music so loud that it hurts sometimes I drink until everything goes black and I don’t remember talking about you all night (even though I do)

sometimes I cry about books and about people who died hundreds of years ago sometimes I don’t cry even though I want to more than anything sometimes I ignore the people I love sometimes I hold myself to keep everything in because you are not here to do it

sometimes I think I’m alive sometimes I think I probably never will be

"

- L.C. (via porn4smartgirls)

(via wshiwascool)