i'm meaner than my demons;;

"sometimes i tell myself "i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay. i repeat it, like a mantra. i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay. because I'M AFRAID if i stop, even for a moment, i will drown in all the reasons i am not." kara. twenty-five. infj. i like a shit ton of tv shows and nina dobrev and phoebe tonkin are my queens. currently watching: lucifer, awkward, faking it, arrow, the flash

[khalbali]

every time you tell your daughter you yell at her out of love you teach her to confuse anger with kindness which seems like a good idea till she grows up to trust men who hurt her cause they look so much like you

to fathers with daughters Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey (via mingd4)

[latenightcornerstore]

I am trying to put a pin in this. I am trying to call this finished, or over, or something we are on the other side of. But it’s hard finding closure when you’re standing in front of a door you never opened. See, you can’t finish a race if you’re still standing, bashful, at the starting line. I wonder how many months we’ve already spent watching each other fall in and out of love with other people. I wonder if I’m meant to spend a lifetime asking god about your mouth. This boy is not my answer to the question we never ask each other. No matter what anyone says, I’m not looking for you, in him. He is not the echo of your hands; he looks nothing like your ghost. I could fall in love with him and it would have nothing to do with you– just like the boy who broke your heart had nothing to do with me. I shouldn’t have to apologize for the state we find ourselves in, and yet I catch myself dusting my own heart for fingerprints, for motive, for evidence of a crime. So this is what it is to be in love at a distance: measured in miles, measured in time-zones, measured in how often I’ve thought about my hands and your hands and your hips and my thighs, measured in how high we can stack the fear, the denial, the regret. I guess this is us finding out the hard way that a hundred thousand maybes aren’t worth a single fucking yes.

THE ONE I DON’T WANT YOU TO READ by Ashe Vernon (via weltenwellen)

[wearmoonlight]

remember, you were a writer before you ever put pen to paper. just because you were not writing externally. does not mean you were not writing internally.

nayyirah waheed (via silencednomore)

[wordsnquotes]

I think I could have loved you better than anyone, and I can’t stop making lists of all the times I almost told you that.

Caitlyn Siehl (via wordsnquotes)

[wnq-writers]

Submit to the pen and write Until you feel whole again.

cosmic-blissss (via wnq-writers)

[words-pics-flicks-deactivated20]

It’s the darker things I find really beautiful.

David Lynch | Lynch on Lynch (via mademoiselle-lolita)

[wordsnquotes]

But love like that doesn’t just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath. Yes. Horrible, isn’t it?

N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms  (via wordsnquotes)

[griefxaddict]

My hands are full of ash. I burn down everything I touch.

(via hawtnip)

[books-n-quotes]

Don’t take life too seriously. Punch it in the face when it needs a good hit. Laugh at it.

Colleen Hoover, Slammed

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(via books-n-quotes)

[quoted-books]

I’m sure you’ve met them. They say they’ll put you back together while they’re tearing everything apart. And they use the type of lips you can taste for years.

pleasefindthis, I Wrote This for You

(Iain S. Thomas)

[words-and-coffee]

But Aphrodite just kept smiling. Because she was just doing what a goddess does-the same way that a tornado rips houses apart or a fire burns down a forest.

L. J. Smith, Spellbinder (via conceptvals)

[blossomfully]

Did I fall in love with him? Perhaps. Was that really so bad? So what if he wasn’t mine to love? I loved him anyway, I loved him in spite of it.

Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)

[thoughtsonourlivestoday]

There are times when life is like a fairytale With a beautiful happy ending And other times when life is like poetry All ripped pages and sharp words

P.L                 What am I living through now? (via audrey1x1s)

[ramonameisel]

Her bones are fortressed like matchsticks, her veins running on gasoline. Both are only waiting for the flame to light them up.

r.m | excerpt #71 (via princessrpg)

[wordsnquotes]

I’m completely empty. Do you know what it means to be completely empty? Being empty is like an unlived-in house. An unlocked unlived-in house. Anybody can come in, any time they want. That’s what scares me the most.

Haruki Murakami (via audrey1x1s)

[alonesomes]

She is a year ago. She is the ache in the empty, the first time you changed your mind and the last time you were sorry about it. She is a city sleeping beside you, warm and vast and familiar, streetlights yawning and stretching, and you have never. You have never. You have never loved someone like this. She is your first stomach ache. Your first panic attack and your favorite cold shower. A mountain is moving somewhere inside of you, and her handprints are all over it. Here. Here. Here, you love her. In the fractured morning, full of too tired and too sad, she is the first foot that leaves the bed. She is the fight in you, the winning and the losing battle floating like a shipwreck in your chest. When they ask you what your favorite moment is, You will say Her. You will always say Her.

Caitlyn Siehl, Her, Her, Her (via alonesomes)

[bunlly]

I used to be fearless. I used to be invincible. But now my fingers are fumbling for the empty space of your outline on my bed sheets.

Sade Andria Zabala (via lazypacific)