chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - taylor swift

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@thelastdecade
chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - taylor swift
i think that sometimes the best thing that you can do is remind yourself that there are beaches. lakes, rivers, and ponds. there are forests. little woods and meadows. there are canyons. gullies and mountain cliffs. there are rainy days. dry spells and scorching blue skies. that the world turns. changes as much as it repeats. that feeling slow today won't stop tomorrow's high tide. won't make july's blackberries any less ripe
forever in awe of people who pay attention. people who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the others have walked away. when they continue listening intently while the rest of the group stopped listening. noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “this made me think of you” noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. people who say “text me when you get home safe.” people who make you laugh until you cry. childhood friends who keep in touch. people with genuine intentions. people who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. the “let’s get ice cream” at 3am friend. the turn up the music in the car and sing friend. people whose actions match their words. people who make the world feel less chaotic. kindred spirits. the trustworthy and honest. hard workers. good listeners. clear communicators. people who love you for who you are. people who don’t ask you to be anything other than yourself. people who choose you. people who stay.
People who introduce you to new ways of thinking and new ways of seeing life are so important
Averno, Louise Glück
Constellations of winter, Patrick Joust (print sale - all profits support planned parenthood)
edit challenge vs. @wespers ♡ round five → favorite movie musical ↳ tick, tick... boom!
you start writing the next one. and after you finish that one, you start on the next. and on and on, and that’s what it is to be a writer, honey.
Didn’t expect to love this as much as I did
― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
[ text ID: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything? ]
The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
Lyrics they used to write about each other vs lyrics they now write about each other🥲
Do I have to die to hear you miss me?
Do I have to die to hear you say goodbye?
I don't want to act like there's tomorrow
I don't want to wait to do this one more time
{Words by L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea/ Jacqueline Woodson, If You Come Softly}
“I am the beginning my father wanted. I pretend that the day he went away to work in another city so that we could eat, he didn’t cry. Instead, I speak of details: the earth & sun & snow. The late hours that last & last. Like winter. I speak of things as ordinary as air & light. As grief. But every night in my sleep, I ward off funerals.”
— Chelsea Dingman, “Late Night Cartography,” published in Foundry (via bostonpoetryslam)
Going There by Jack Gilbert