You lose it if you talk about it.– Ernest Hemingway, from The Art Of Fiction (via violentwavesofemotion)
I can’t sleep and all I can think about is that no matter how many times you pick me up, play with me, and set me aside for something else like a spoiled child with too many toys, I’ll always be waiting for you when you return. I want to be stronger than this. I want to crush you the next time you decide, for whatever reason, that I’m worth your time again. I want to ignore your...
I forgot all about this song. Fucking yes.
maza-dohta: when your heart beats, a thousand bluebirds settle at your window in anticipation.
I’ve had it with stingy-hearted sons of bitches. A heart is to be spent.– Stephen Dunn, from “Sixty” (via electrichoney)
revene asked: (๑・ω-)～♥”
“‘K … R …’ said the nursemaid, and Septimus heard her say “Kay Arr” close to his ear, deeply, softly, like a mellow organ, but with a roughness in her voice like a grasshopper’s, which rasped his spine deliciously and sent running up into his brain waves of sound which, concussing, broke. A marvellous discovery indeed—that the human voice in certain atmospheric...
Get me out of this house. There are too many girly hormones flying around.
I’m sorry my nose was running when you kissed me.
trillow: this is the sassy police. come out with your hands on your hips
Anonymous asked: Cheer up, buttercup. You are young and beautiful and will get what you've always wanted in time. Be patient because good things will come to you, you deserve it.
Trying not to break down and start sobbing in the middle of Starbucks. My hopes exceed any chances of reality.
“There was something about it that just seemed so awful, and so predictable. And worse than feeling hurt, I felt incredibly bitter. I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.” -Thought Catalog