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MY ILLUSIONS ARE REAL
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"Loneliness is a kind of winter. And you drag me, kicking and screaming, into some kind of bright summer."

— Iain Thomas (via splitterherzen)

religiousmom:

do white boys do anything besides make facebook statuses asking who wants to hang

(via freedomislost)

"I hope one day
Your human body
Is not a jail cell,
Instead it’s a sunny
2pm garden with daisies
Thriving because of
Self love."

— Alexa Evangelista, you deserve better (via vodkakilledtheteens)

(via sad-lungs)

"Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand."

Sylvia Plath. (via theburnthatkeepseverything)

(via moonndreams)

"

It’s like drowning but you just won’t fucking die.

"

— Urban Dictionary definition of unrequited love (via fawun)

(Source: jungtaekmetothekingwoon, via losing-my-sense-in-direction)

hateful:

About 2 puke from all this cake i just ate

"They were smiling at each other as if this was the beginning of the world."

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon  (via lovely-wall-flower)

(Source: fitzgeraldquotes, via lovely-wall-flower)

sovietxprincess:

If you’re a guy who likes looking at pictures of naked girls but loses respect for a girl if she posts a naked picture of herself, you can get lost

(Source: princessxkaty, via sixtininer)

"

somewhere there is a 17 year old girl who smells like pomegranates and has summer air tight on her naked skin, wrapping around her scars
like veins in a bloody garden, who won’t make it past tomorrow,

there is a young man, who buys yellow flowers for the woman
in apartment 84B, who learned braille when he realized she
couldn’t read his poetry about her white neck and mint eyes

there are people watching films,
making love for the first time, opening mail with the
heading of ‘i miss you’, cooking noodles with
organic spices and red sauces, buying lemon detergent,
ignoring ‘do not smoke’ signs, painting murals
of his lips in abandoned warehouses, chewing
the words ‘i love you’ over and over again, swallowing
phone numbers and forgotten birthdays, eating
strawberry pies, drinking white wine off of each
others open mouths, ignoring the telephone,
reading this poem

somewhere
someone is thinking
i’m alone
somewhere
someone finally understands
they never really
were

"

— poems from my uncles graves  (via ohyou)

(Source: irynka, via ohyou)