[thanksbrunette]

[achillesinhighheels]

[achillesinhighheels]

[vexheart]

[wetheurban]

What a gift it is to finally detach. To outgrow what once felt like everything.

[grace--upon--grace]

Tiffany Howard

[scent-of-the-autumn-end]

Giá mà mình có một nơi nào đó bình yên để đến. Nơi đó sẽ không có ai hỏi mình những điều mình không thích nói. Cũng không có ai kỳ vọng bất cứ điều gì mình không thích. Mình có thể yên lặng điềm an ngồi cạnh họ, làm những việc mình muốn làm, hay chỉ cần thơ trẻ hồn nhiên mân mê cốc nước trong tay, ngẩng mặt nhìn trời và vui vẻ chờ người đang chăm chú làm bánh để thết mình ăn, thi thoảng nói một câu gì đó bâng quơ, hay hỏi người một điều gì đó ngớ ngẩn, để được ngồi cười khục khặc, vì những câu nói đùa xớ lớ của người.. Thế gian thật hiền nhiên tĩnh lặng biết bao, nếu ta may mắn có được một nơi trú ẩn đặc biệt để tìm về! Nhất là những lúc lòng mình mỏi mệt lạc đường.. Giá mà có ai đó - vẫn luôn đón đợi mình về!

[1980vibes]

[ritikajyala]

I know the sunset will not last longer than a few minutes, I know the leaves of summer fall but today I gather the fleeting moments and wear them like a choker around my neck, today I capture all the smiles, all the rays of the sun and swallow them whole. I know all things end but today I breathe in all of the beginnings and wait for another sunrise.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

[ritikajyala]

And I sit by my grief and nurse it like a sick child. The days are grey and the nights long, and the inside of my body aches- with people and places and childhood, an amalgamation of a life lived. There is grief where there is life, there is grief where there is love. It’s a reminder, a keepsake, a fridge magnet. There are boxes in my heart which I open on rainy nights; there are gorges where my grief runs swift, meadows where it’s quiet. It comforts me and chokes me- dichotomy of a life lived, of love. It rains a lot now and I sit by my grief.

-Ritika Jyala, an excerpt from the Flesh I Burned

[oldwinesoul]

[ritikajyala]

"Do you still love him?" I know the answer.

"I did, once. I don't know, memory is a faulty thing and the past moves in circles. I don't think about some things for months, only to obsess over them for a week. Also, I don't think I know him now. I did once, and I loved him, loved who he was and who he could be. But I know he's a different person now, I am too."

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

(read full excerpt here)

[ritikajyala]

The weight of memory drags my shoulders down. I take a string and stack everyone I've ever known and loved like beads, pearl on pearl on pearl. And when they leave- because leaving is one certainty we're burdened with, and when they leave- I clutch the pearls and try to breathe. I remember it all, even things I've forgotten. Some nights, I dream of smiles and faces and laughs, my best friend at 7, the first boy I ever liked, my grandma on the patio- pearls on pearls on pearls, boxes full of necklaces stacked in every corner of my heart. The weight of the world on my shoulders- is that what is left of us in the end, memories stuffed in pearls, waiting to be worn?

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from the The Flesh I Burned

[weltenwellen]

Ocean Vuong, The Emperor of Gladness

[thingsworthsaving]

The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.

-James Baldwin

[nam-nhi-ytc]

"Giống như cơn mưa ngoài cửa sổ, có mưa tầm tã thế nào rồi cũng sẽ trời quang mây tạnh.

Nhưng cái ngày mưa hôm đấy sẽ nhớ mãi. Mãi mãi không bao giờ quên."

#Tumblr

[ashstfu]

i don’t think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought you’d become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever

[nacerworld4]