Please, don't hurt me, which meant, Hurt me all you want
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Please, don't hurt me, which meant, Hurt me all you want
André Aciman, Call Me By Your Name
Sometimes even love isn’t always enough.
etoile-filantes (via etoile-filantes)
I had two longings and one was fighting the other. I wanted to be loved and I always wanted to be alone.
Jean Rhys
It’s not you. It’s anyone. Sometimes I don’t want anyone around. Some afternoons I lie on my bed and the light comes through the shutters on the floor and I think I never want to leave my own room.
Joan Didion, Run River (via dark-splendor)
Loneliness is a very special place.
We are all wearing masks. That is what makes us interesting.
Neil Gaiman, Trigger Warning: Short Fictions and Disturbances (via fujocherry)
The best portion of your life will be the small, nameless moments you spend laughing with someone who matters the most to you.
mardybryant (via wnq-writers)
Be careful who you make memories with. Those things can last a lifetime.
Ugo Eze (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.
Homer, The Iliad (via yumyanyan)
I,” she says, “am always stuck. I am always stuck between giving people everything because I am dying to create meaningful relationships, and giving them nothing at all because then if they leave, at least I’ll be left whole.
S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #138 (via blossomfully)
I’m so sick of reducing lovers to lessons. How to let go. How to stay. How to ask for what the heart wants.
AN ADMISSION, LATE AND VIA TEXT MESSAGE pt. 2 by Trista Mateer (via yumyanyan)
We need to swap the Romantic view for a tragic (and at points comedic) awareness that every human will frustrate, anger, annoy, madden and disappoint us — and we will (without any malice) do the same to them. There can be no end to our sense of emptiness and incompleteness.
Alain de Botton, “Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person” (via yumyanyan)
Life's so quick sometimes just blinking you might miss it when you close your eyes
seeing is forgetting the name of the thing one sees
You look up at the church in the night sky and you wonder where is god in your night life
Saint Pablo
Stars are not small or gentle. They are writhing and dying and burning. They are not here to be pretty. I am trying to learn from them.
Caitlyn Siehl, “Sky Poem” (via wordsnquotes)
And then we never spoke again.
my 6 word story (via un8common)