
Janaina Medeiros
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.
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sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast
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AnasAbdin

Andulka
d e v o n
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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YOU ARE THE REASON

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occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor
Three Goblin Art
KIROKAZE

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@edaiane
I realized heartbreak wasn’t poetic when my sister was driving her car 90mph, her hands clenching the steering wheel and her mumbling “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t turn her broken heart into anything more than a mosaic. because when this boy had to talk in front of the class, his eyes watered when he mentioned her name and he shrugged his shoulders and said “sometimes things just don’t work out.” and he still loved her. because when it happened to me I pictured me going 90mph on the highway, and mumbling about how I still loved him but instead I threw something at the wall and I wrote about it. I wrote about how much it hurt and tried to make my ribs cracking with all the weight of my heavy heart sound poetic but it’s not. nothing is beautiful or poetic about the way your heart feels when someone you loved leaves, or doesn’t stay, or says “I’m sorry, it just has to be this way.” and there’s nothing poetic about driving so fast you’re convinced you’re gonna crash into the bridge, but you don’t. and it’s accidentally taking a breath under water even though you know it’ll get in your lungs but you just couldn’t come up for air and it’s not beautiful, it just makes your lungs fucking burn. heartbreak is going to open your mouth and nothing comes out but a few broken pieces of your heart and you swallow it back down in hopes of no one noticing your heart coming up from the ocean waves forming inside your stomach and with just one more look from him, you know you’ll turn into a hurricane and it’s dangerous. it’s not beautiful. it turns people into natural disasters that destruct anything in their paths. it makes hearts so broken you can barely see the flame that sparked it up in the first place, because the ocean inside of them washed it away, and you can’t love him anymore when he’s a flame and you’re the ocean
I know heartbreak isn’t poetic, but writing sure does take some of the pain away (via autumnxrayne)
I don’t care if you are going to tell everyone about what I have done to you. But please, just don’t forget to tell them about what you did to me.
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sometimes they forget. bad memory, right. but they remember what you’ve done to them even better than you.
Wish you were here but you’re there and there doesn’t know how lucky, it is.
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Even though you’re miles away, I whisper ‘I love you’ as I fall asleep, hoping you’d hear me..
(via i---miss---her)
What if there was this guy that suddenly could hear what his soulmate said/thought about him. He never even met her. She never met him. But he could hear her praying for him, saying “I love you” every night. And he falls in love with a total stranger. The voice just stops one day. And he gets crazy with worry, and tries to find her.
Don’t worry when I argue with you. Worry when I stop cause that just means there’s nothing left worth fighting for.
Unknown (via ohteenscanrelate)
This is just too sad. Words are powerful. Should be powerful. What happened to make words useles?
It was always her for you, but it was always you for me.
Unsaidphrases on Instagram (via quotedheart)
For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you.
Andrew McMahon (via tumorized)
a little girl who grows up thinking all doors are automatic but actually she’s haunted by a really polite ghost
So chivalry IS dead?!
you win best response to this post
a little girl always gets away because her bro/sis/random ghost watches over her. Luckiest girl alive. But the girl grows and boys trouble are coming and now the ghost is the one creating troubles only to keep the assholes away from her. And the girl girl has no clue about what happens. And now she’s the unluckiest person alive.
Introspectie
Pentru ca sunt omul ala care pastreaza totul in el, si adun zi de zi amintiri si sentimente, vorbe nerostite si ganduri neinfaptuite. Pana cand explodez. Dar gandul ca va in clipa in care ma voi spulbera si nu vor mai ramane din mine decat cioburi si farame, va fi cineva langa mine, ma sperie peste masura. Cum ar putea sa nu ma terifieze gandul ca cineva – o alta fiinta umana – va avea asa putere mare asupra mea? Puterea sa ma adune sau sa lase vantul sa ma imprastie. Puterea de a-mi reda viata sau de a-mi sfarsi chinul.
A woman is not written in braille. You do not have to touch her to know her.
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Still, our souls recognise each other like they've been knowing each other for so long. Can you imagine it? Your soul waiting for you to find that person whose soul is yours perfect match. Or being angry with you for not seing the one that's for you...
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