I heard the water and I realized I had missed its song.
It’s good to be home.
I heard the water and I realized I had missed its song.
It’s good to be home.
The thing is, it’s not about the things, but it is.
(Source: weareohsopretty, via oxblood)
The moon had every intention of reminding us that for every cycle we imposed on it, it still controlled the ocean.
Recursively feeding myself pearls of wisdom that may be indigestible.
You made me mixtapes which served as my soundtrack as I wound through a landscape made of stolen kisses where we are the robbers and the robbed.
I am working through all of the papers now, and writing some of my own.
(Source: vimeo.com, via loveyourchaos)
Things are starting to come into focus.
(via loveyourchaos)
I am proud to say that I have most of these.
(via loveyourchaos)
This is true.
(via loveyourchaos)
All night long.
It’s all about the way you plan it.
(via deadgirls)
I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
I’m not in the proper orientation right now.
(Source: c-o-n-s-p-i-r-a-c-y, via 1000lostchildren)
And I found myself asking more and more frequently, Will they ever learn that it’s cruel to put horses in bubbles?
And again I forgot that I was not only the curator of my future, but the curator of my past.
