Run, Hike, Explore @shewantstomovemountains - Tumblr Blog

thegood-byelook

I still don't know what I'm wearing to the living room New Years Eve... I might not even go.

farhadghaderi

wildmermaids

“Yosemite”

Nostalgic memories from when I felt overwhelmed by our Earth.

This photograph is a composition of 10 separate photos.

but click on it!!

shewantstomovemountains

“If it doesn’t destroy you when it is over, then it wasn’t love.”

— (via leohearts)

teenagecrush

shewantstomovemountains

“And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.”

— Unknown (via regular-love)

iwantcupcakes

fightingborderline

“Years of depression, won’t fade away in just a little moment of time. It needs time. A lot of time.”

— fightingborderline

poetsbloom

Please just let me sleep

I'm begging

I'm crying

I'm exhausted.

remanence-of-love

smileyangels

“You’re just one of them people. You know, 20 years from now my daughter may come home crying over a stupid boy. You’re the story I tell her. When she’s aching in bed and I’m running my fingers through her hair to try and wash away the pain, our story is what I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her how something so beautiful has the potential to become so ugly and toxic to the both of you. When she thinks she can’t live without him, I’ll tell her about our story and how I forced myself to heal. How getting out of bed was a mission. How breathing without you was a mission. When her skins burning from every part he touched I’ll tell her about how I scrubbed your hands of me in the shower as I was crying. And when she thinks she can’t ever move on, I’ll tell her about how 10 years ago I saw you alone in a pub whilst I was with her father, I’ll tell her how your eyes watered when our eyes met and how I replied with a gentle smile, because it was the calm after the storm. It hurts darling. It hurts so bad, knowing you love him more than anything and he’s too immature and childish to understand or even care and acknowledge that you’ll love him more than anyone possibly can in his life. But once you heal that hurt, you become an untouchable woman.

—a mix of my auntys story& my future