I’m not really sure how many times you need to think about something before you start to forget.
(via shes-elecktric)
(via beforeiloveandleaveyou)
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When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn’t make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares still walking. When we hold each other we feel not safe, but better. “It’s all right” we whisper, “I’m here, I love you.” and we lie: “I’ll never leave you.” For just a moment or two the darkness doesn’t seem so bad.
Neil Gaiman, Neil Gaiman’s Midnight Days (via thresca)
(Source: pushthemovement, via papastalinspizza)
(Source: synodik, via brokenheartdoll)
Creepin on the creephole. Best time of my life was living here. (Taken with instagram)
”
The world is full of people who are waiting for someone to come along and motivate them to be the kind of people they wish they could be. These people are waiting for a bus on a street where no buses pass.
Brian Tracy (via aos010510)
(Source: the-art-of-skulduggery, via theangrytherapist)
(Source: teachingliteracy, via carnalove)
(Source: observando, via liquidconfidence)
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Yet how malleable our memories are, even if our brains are intact. Neuroscientists now suggest that while the core meaning of a longterm memory remains, the memory transforms each time we attempt to remember.
Mira Bartok (The Memory Palace)
(Source: yunzi, via allthenight-tide)
(Source: theirgraves, via recklesstragedy)
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That’s how we find our way outward and onward. By holding onto beauty hardest. By cradling it like the cure that it is. By making it realer than anything ever was. The rest is just monsters and ghosts.
Cheryl Strayed, Dear Sugar.
relentless need
I don’t know why, but I feel a relentless need to reconnect with everyone I used to know. I feel terrible that these friendships are entirely broken to a point where I feel more capable of connecting to dead relatives through prayer than an ex I gave my heart to for years and years and years and years that knew every nuance. Their graves exist on the internet and I can look up their new girlfriends and try to determine if they’re pretty/not pretty but that doesn’t get me anywhere worth being.
I miss being at Point Confluence in your old tan, beat-up Lumina. I miss running to Schnucks on 90 degree days with 100% humidity. I miss the intense, extreme, painfully-absolute love that we nursed and nurtured. It was so much deeper than anything I’ve felt since.
I can’t wish you back in my life, and I can’t invent a word for this empty hollow feeling of waxing nostalgic about how fucking much I miss feeling you and having you to myself.
She is so lucky she has you. She best not hurt you.
