La vita è bella

this is just another black and white blog. caution: things may be triggering  lost soul(s)

[maslaner]

[iamnotperfectiamsorry]

[unpoeticheartbreak]

I was sixteen when I realized the house I had grown up in wasn’t really a home, I don’t think it had ever been. To me it hadn’t at least. I had a place to put all my shit and sleep, and a roof over my head with food in my mouth but the idea of a home was just sort of.. gone. I felt homesick for a place that didn’t exist outside of my head, a place I had never even been. I so desperately wanted to have a place to call home. My parents home was just a house to me, never a home. I found it both sad and comforting. Sad, because I didn’t have a place I felt safe in, a place I could really come ‘home’ to. But comforting, because I knew that somewhere out there was a place just waiting for me. A place I could call home someday and it would be MY home and I couldn’t wait to find it.

“Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.” (via unpoeticheartbreak)

[landscapre]

[reanr]

[justinbiebergifs]

[gold--scars]

aW

[sadlyborn]

[animalsnaps]

[woah-loser]

[sunthetika]

[sadness-here]

[ideologizar]

[uptional]

[ideologizar]

[frequents]

[picture--sex]

[skumbags]