I demand unconditional love and complete freedom. That is why I am terrible.Tomaž Šalamun (via reenamia)
Put one reason in my ask.
I wait and ache.Sylvia Plath (via paigemerchant)
i hate the ‘i need to listen to new songs but i don’t have the patience to get into new songs’ feeling
We gotta start teaching our daughters to be somebodies instead of somebody’s.Kifah Shah (via perfect)
The worst decisions I’ve ever made, have been to make no decision. When I over think and over analyze, I do nothing. It’s a classic case of analysis paralysis.William Chapman (via fuckingcamilla)
I’m nervous and terrified. It’s nearly midnight, and I can’t sleep. I know this may or may not affect my future decisions. The outcome may or may not even meet my expectations.
Fear is rapidly worming its way to my arteries. Luck has left me estranged. The Unknown is a soulless, horrifying bastard. And it has me on its leash.
Seduce me with metaphors, all while whispering sweet similes on my left ear. Never comfort me with euphemisms, but swathe me in the solace that I can only find in the antithesis of your life’s adventures. Write your poems on my skin; your fingers skimming my rib cage and collar bones, as you bury their rhythm with your ink. Whisper prose with bated breath, and drink my scent with the desire kindling in your eyes. Make love to my words with your own, the union so mesmerizing, so awe-inspiring, so universally ours.
I used to build dreams about you.
F. Scott Fitzgerald(via ashoutintothevoid)
Don’t take life too seriously. Punch it in the face when it needs a good hit. Laugh at it.Colleen Hoover, Slammed
Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.
Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
My first love was a firework.
She was my dream, my fantasy. She was the woman on the pedestal, a wish I made whenever I closed my eyes. She was beautiful in small doses, and I loved each highs.
One mg—Her smile nestled on my pillows, mingling light and warmth on a cold, careless day.
Two mg—Her flaws echoing at nighttime, when my finger pulls her name from my lips and into one of my songs.
Three mg—Her laughter in my pockets, where they burrow underneath my skin whenever she comes close.
Four mg—Her disbelief crumbling against the “I love you” I wrote on her wrist with a permanent marker she kept near her bed.
She was my first love and my last one. She is beautiful in small doses but she is more than beautiful when taken all at once. She is my reality and my truth. When I close my eyes and her breath tickle my chest, and I hear her heart beat against my ribs, I’m glad I no longer just exist. The day I loved her was the day I began to live.
It would be so amazing to have a portrait taken by Nawe though.