read.write.wander.
what is there to say. i'm nothing to write home about. i am a pawn trapped in the war, the smell right before it rains. i am just passing through this place; trying to leave my mark in an unmark-able world.

 

Sometimes,
despite all of the pain
and all of the suffering
I feel like I’ve grown.
I feel as though I’m
stronger than I used
to be. And I try to hold
on to that feeling; that
I’ve been through hell
and back again at least
for a reason.

m.l.b, stronger (via traced-veins)

Two Augusts ago, I saw you, briefly, negotiating the aisles of a grocery store with a litre of milk and a pound of tomatoes. You didn’t notice, and I was too nervous to say hello, but watching you walk by was like slowly driving down the street of my childhood home— you were familiar yet foreign, all of the memories were there only now, they were faint, like a warm light peeking through a curtained window after dark. I wondered who called you home now, and if they took good care of you, if they were grateful for every morning they awoke to the marvellous architecture of your bones and the design of your heart. But most of all I missed living in you, and regretted I ever left.

Beau Taplin || Childhood home  (via afadthatlastsforever)

You never need to apologize
for how you chose to survive.

Clementine von Radics (via journalofanobody)

She said one thing. I said another. Next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.

Hank Moody. (via honestarrogance)

this happens to me a lot

(via ab-sences)

She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.

Frances Hodgson Burnett (via observando)

From 18 to 22 you meet a lot of temporary people.

(via theflowershop)

finding this out, painfully.

(via womaninthewoods)

(Source: mydeepest-fear)

Maybe it won’t work out. But maybe seeing if it does will be the best adventure ever.

(via unenergetic)

(Source: the-taintedtruth)

What a cruel thing to do; to rob your heart from feeling.

T.B. LaBerge // Unwritten Letters to You (via tblaberge)