open your eyes

bad phase in my life


wait it out

i’ll get through it

(Source: explodingdog)

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.
Stendhal (via thingsandschemes)
How could you ever be perfectly sure when you were dreaming and when you were awake?
Donna Tartt, The Little Friend  (via middecember)

(Source: nurserywords, via sk3l3tonboy)



Everything you love is here

(via theonlywaytolearnistogetburn)

I want everyone to leave me alone and I also want someone to come snuggle me and rub my back. Or I don’t want that. I want you to go away and stop talking and I want a hug and I want ice cream sundaes and I never want to eat again.


They ask me about him like questioning a spirit

called back from the dead at a séance.

Want to know if my eyeteeth fell for him first;

it’s long been rumored that the body knows best.

My grandmother used to catch the rain in an hourglass

instead of a gauge or metal pail.

Rain is life, she said. When it stops falling,

you know your time is out.

They wonder if the geography of my skin has changed

since meeting him, if my heart has opened into new continents

the same way Pangaea split apart amid a ring of seas,

if my spine has begun to crack at the mere mention of his name.

But they know nothing.

I could give them metaphors, figurative language

made beautiful merely through being spoken,

could say, I was a series of broken piano keys until he fixed all my strings,

and now, everything is no longer black and white.

But I know better, and so did my grandmother.

I know one day our rain will stop falling.

We are both thunderstorms

and eventually,

we will part ways into the sky from which we came.

when will it ever be enough for me! when? when! tell me! how much is enough? how much can i take! when do the scales tip! tell me! what has to happen? how far can you push it? how far away is the edge! tell me!

i don’t want to listen to anyone! anyone anyone anyone!

And the more deeply I felt
the less able I was to respond.
Louise Glück, from Timor Mortis (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via eletheowl)


(Source: explodingdog)

(Source: antriebslosigkeit, via eletheowl)

Intimacy is not who you let touch your genitalia. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.