Hello

Let me tell you something 

[captainjoongki]

shin PD’s dramas are just so special to me. they feel like being indoors when it’s cold and troubling outside, with a warm blanket around you while you sip your favorite hot drink. they feel like someone patting your shoulder and saying “it’s okay”. the way he shows friendship, the struggles of every stage of life, the small things about love, the individuality of humans and their shades…..it’s just all so tender and real. 

[dotaesgone]

yes chenle, we agree

[extramadness]

[olearypoetry]

[wnq-books]

The Hate U Give By Angie Thomas | @wnq-books

[surqrised]

“I am so afraid of disappointing the people I love, I often forget that I am someone I love too. And I need kindness just as much as I believe the people I love do.”

— Nikita Gill

[astound]

I’m okay with your history. It made you who you are. And I happen to be in love with who you are.

S.C. Stephen (via astound)

[wordsnquotes]

Harper Lee  |  @wordsnquotes

[wordsnquotes]

Afraid By Spaceman

[meanwhilepoetry]

5. Everything here smells of medical sanitizer and tragedy, and this boy, this boy I adore is holding me close, begging me to not stop loving him. I am tired of telling him that I will never stop. Yet he still asks, like I was time slipping through his fingers. Even now, in this moment, so close I don’t know where his body ends and mine begins, he thinks I am made of a soft dream cloud, waiting to drift away. Even if it’s him that has sad eyed doctors telling him there is not much more they can do. Even if it’s him who has lied about the sickness from the moment we began and it took a two story fall for him to tell me the truth. Even if it’s him the dark demon called cancer watches from the corner of this hospital room every night. 4. Last night, we spent the evening sitting on a rooftop watching a storm gather. Any minute now, it would hit in such full force it would nearly knock us down. There was a thrill in that, in being closer to the sky than we were to the ground, thunder splitting from the sky, sounding like a monster from beyond knew that we were watching and was calling our names. “The worst thing you’ve ever tasted. Tell me.” You wrinkled your nose and grinned “Anything that isn’t you.” “That is so cheesy, it belongs on a lasagna.” I laughed and shoved at your chest. Neither of us saw that broken tile. Neither of us knew what was going to happen next. 3. It’s been 3 months and his fingers have not stopped counting my ribs every night. He reminds me my heart is a caged bird in my chest and he knows how to set it free, and he will, he will if only I let him. I haven’t for the life of me been able to get the way he soft hums all my favourite songs out of my head, like a huge light in this dark room I call my depression, a room no one has ever been in. Except his gentler than a birdsong voice.  Still, I won’t call this love. Love is too destructive a word for something this soft, this sweet. 2. I hesitate to tell anyone I have met him for weeks. Not even my best friends. Perhaps if I keep my happiness to myself, not even the Gods learn of it. I tell him this. “Don’t make me too happy.“  He looks over to me, hair wind swept in this jeep, one hand on the steering wheel, the other playing with my hair, everything about him both dangerous and endearing at once. "Why?” “Everyone knows the Gods only take things from you when you are really happy.” 1. Four minutes into the party, I recognise I had made a mistake in coming here. Blindly walking through shouting, dancing, grinding strangers, I look for a door, for anything…real. A hand takes mine gently and shows me to a door. “I don’t know you!” I shout so I am heard over the roar of the party, thinking he has mistaken me for someone else. The messy haired, soft eyed boy smiles, “That’s okay!” he shouts back to me, as he leads me to a door to a quiet balcony, overlooking an upcoming storm over the neighbourhood “I don’t know me either.” But the wind dances past his shoulders, the lightning striking in the far distance behind him giving him an angel’s wings for a quarter of a second. And I know all I need to know about him in that split second.

Nikita Gill, A Star Crossed Love Story Told Backwards (via meanwhilepoetry)

[kiki-writes-things]

Ocean air. Salty hair. Sun-kissed skin. The beach is calling me! Udah siap liburan? ;) . #beach #waves #ocean #holiday

[kiki-writes-things]

[architecturefiles]

Art is giving yourself permission to translate life. Exactly the way you feel. See. And hear it. Be the artist you are. Give yourself permission to speak your own language.

Nayyirah Waheed (via architecturefiles)

[shareaquote]

Everyone has different personalities hidden inside of them. It’s no secret. We are all formed of smaller galaxies, that we take out and put on as coats whenever we see fit. It’s no shame. I have that. We all do. It’s no strangeness. I let some people see the summer rain in me, the warm coffee in me, the dusty old books, the smiles that feel like warm sunshine on my face. That’s the galaxy full of bright stars you just want to dive in. I let other people see the hurricane, the wolf blood, the sharp bites and whiskey smirks. That’s the galaxy not many explore, the side you don’t venture into because you want to. I perhaps have thousands of little universes like these that I bring out whenever I feel like it. I am not a chameleon, I don’t adapt to what’s asked of me. I just like to think that I’m not simple enough to be defined by one single thing. But every galaxy has its black holes. The one thing you don’t talk about, the one you keep hidden and pretend it doesn’t exist. I feel like the person I become when I get close to the black hole isn’t who I am. I see it as another person, completely separated from me. I keep her in a locked room. Or perhaps I don’t keep her, perhaps she has caged herself there, in a prison of her own making. She is sad. She is a weeping sky. She is angry. She is an unmerciful tsunami. She is mad. And she scares me. I don’t let her out. In fact, I think I have no control over her whatsoever. She comes out whenever she wants and she does what she wants once she’s out. She cries, she yells, she laughs, she scares. She scratches on the walls of my mind as a warning before she erupts. But she doesn’t stay too long. She never does. Maybe she just gets lonely in there, all by herself, and wants to make sure I haven’t forgotten her. We all have universes, stars, dangerous planets and black holes. Perhaps I am made of books full of raindrops and hunger and feathers and broken wings sparrows. Made of going but never leaving. Of had enough’s and trying too hard. Of cigarette smoke and poison and storms. Of poetry and spilled ink. Of shy mornings and midnight thunders. But do I ever think that makes me original or special or different? Not even for a second.

writinghurricanes, shades of blue (via wordsnquotes)

[extramadness]

[halamanbercerita]

Bantulah orang lain, bahkan ketika kau pun sebenarnya sedang kekurangan. Semoga Allah memudahkan segala urusan kita ketika memudahkan urusan orang lain. Aamiin.

(via halamanbercerita)

[top-lyrics]

save myself // ed sheeran