You Are Home.
Night Drives. Black & White Pictures. Love. Hate. Lust. Dew. Warm Summer Nights. Starbucks. Plaid. Long Hair. High Heels. Patterns. Travel. Food. Live Music. Friends. The City. Small Towns. Friday Nights. Sunday Mornings. Long Days. Cold Mornings.
You Are Home.
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"I knew right then that I was in trouble, because every move you made registered with me like it was keeping me alive. you brushed your hair out of your face and I nearly fucking died. To be your hand in that second, would have killed me."
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"I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are there, in everything I am, in everything I’ve ever done, and looking back, I know that I should have told you know much you’ve always meant to me."
Nicholas SparksThe Wedding (via feellng)
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"Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes."
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"Everyone else isn’t you. It turns out that’s a huge problem for me."
Clementine von Radics, excerpt from “Things I Do When I Cannot Hold You”  (via theburnthatkeepseverything)
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"And I am jealous
of your tattoos and how long
they will stay with you
after I go."
Clementine von Radics  (via princessrylea)
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History books forgot about us.
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"My mother told me that you can’t cure depression,
that taking pills wouldn’t fix me and taking six
instead of the prescribed two definitely wasn’t
going to speed up the process. But I met a boy
who tasted better than Prozac. He made it easier
to get out of bed. He kissed me like I was
alive, like I wasn’t empty, like maybe there was
something left inside me. He made my bones
ache less when he touched me. He made it okay.
When my world was crashing down around me,
he picked up all the pieces. When I stopped
breathing and tried to tear open my wrists to
find the last little bits of happiness left in my
veins, he was there to lace me back together.
But he left and I haven’t washed my hair in three
weeks. My mother was right."
I met a boy who tasted better than Prozac (via extrasad)
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"Sometimes I would open my eyes when we were kissing, I would watch him and I could see it. I could actually see love—not words, not an emotion, not an abstract concept or a subjective state of mind, but a living, breathing thing."
Tiffanie DeBartolo, How to Kill a Rock Star   (via fuckinq)
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"I forgave everybody, I gave up, I got drunk."
Jack Kerouac, On the Road  (via falcade)