life is beautiful.

Emily, 22. this is a collection of my thoughts, poetry, photographs, ramblings about nothing in particular, and what inspires me.
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photos91:

Lonely sakura blossoms.

Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.
Pat Barker, Regeneration (via commovente)

(via commovente)

Mama, I said
He wants to kiss me
And he won’t take no for an answer
She turned to me, eyes blazing
God help me, she said
Who taught these boys you are something to be had?
Don’t they know that your name means strength,
That your father gave it to you knowing what a force you would be?
You’re a wildfire, don’t they know?
You’re the entire ocean, not a puddle
They’ll come up choking for air
Next time you turn your head away from his lips and he turns it back,
Tell him your mother taught you that your body is a temple
Let him kneel before you
Let him pray in a whispered fervor
Let him swear his allegiance
Let him prove his devotion
Honey, you’re a goddamn wildfire
You choose who you burn
Fortesa Latifi - Mama (via madgirlf)

(via ushahidi)

Success is not obtained overnight. It comes in installments; you get a little bit today, a little bit tomorrow until the whole package is given out. The day you procrastinate, you lose that day’s success.

megablaziken:

I went to the Met today

(via me-sexual)

The first night we slept together, you cracked open my chest with your lips, thinking love would be inside. You tried to reach at my heart and massage the love out of it. But it wasn’t there. All my love for you was a fire in my stomach, a kind of nuclear fusion for the soul. This was a feast and I had come to dine on you.

But long before you ever wrapped your arms around me, we were deeply intertwined. When two celestial bodies orbit, they are constantly falling towards each other due to gravity. The only reason they avoid collision is because of their previous momentum always propelling them forward and away. I love that. We were always falling towards each other, for each other. And everything that we had ever been up to that point—every mask we wore, every scar that was handed to us, every human heart that had ever grazed us—gave us the momentum we needed to not collide, to stave off self-destruction.

We are born into this world with ravenous appetites. And it didn’t matter if we were naked or in a bookstore, I never stopped wanting to sink into you, to learn the map of your enigmatic mind, to explore the continents on your skin.

I don’t miss you but I remember you.
Occasionally, your name rolls off the tip of my tongue. Occasionally, it leaves my mouth through my parted lips and everyone seems to be having a hard time understanding why it does.

I am still allowed to pronounce your name because we held hands for too long. We walked upon sidewalks together and now I walk them alone. I kissed you at every corner and at every stoplight. We sat across from each other at tables in small coffee shops. In fact, I don’t think there is one single coffee shop that we didn’t visit together. You tore daffodils from the ground beneath your feet and you placed them between the knots in my hair.

So I am still allowed to pronounce your name because I loved you enough. I know I did. I let you write your name on the insides of my wrist. I let you leave your fingerprints and most of all, your footsteps.

I am allowed to remember you.
But that has never meant, I miss you.

I’m allowed to remember you for goodness sake // Abagail Pacheco (via thewordsyouneverunderstood)

(via aquietjoy)

pwoperly-sherlocked:

new favourite insults:

  • absolute bagel
  • useless paperclip
  • first bread slice
  • yellow marker that was used to colour over something dark and now colours a really distressing muddy yellowish-brown
  • tangled headphone cord
  • ketchup pre-cum

(via theincredible-polygonisdead)

stumblequeen:

in the hallway you press my back to the wall
press your body into my body
my breasts fitting into the hollow beneath your ribcage
as I have grown very small
and you have become very tall
and we are writing and rewriting history
as some salacious page-turning mystery
wherein you and i lie in wait