"Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am—and what I need—is something I have to find out myself."
Chinua Achebe (via elige)
desenharts:

by ImaginaryNature
466
metamorphosisofmeg:

And you can do it :3
361
simply-divine-creation:

Rifle Paper Co.
996
"

You’ll never be her.

And you know something? You shouldn’t try to be. When the moon is breaking through your windowpane and breaking through your ribs and breaking into your brain as you picture him kissing her - when the night tastes sour and so do your tears

do not wish your body could curl like a comma and become small like her, do not wish your voice could swell to fill a room like hers does, do not wish for her talents and her charisma, do not wish that you could grow out your hair or take scissors to your rolls or open yourself up and become perfect like her.

He doesn’t love you, but that’s not your fault. Some people don’t fit together. Do not cut yourself to shreds for his benefit. If she is his real puzzle piece, that means your real one is out there too, waiting. And he or she or they will love you with enough force that you will feel the ground shake - and somewhere there will be a person just as jealous of you as you are in this moment. My love, my heart: somewhere, there is a person wishing to be all that you are. They are sitting in a dark room and the light of their soul is quietly extinguishing itself in jealousy.

And I know in this moment this doesn’t matter to you, but know that the trees and the birds and the newborn puppies all still think you’re perfect, know that nature never judged someone for their grades or whether or not a boy kissed them and meant it. And I know - I know - that when people leave, it feels as if the world turned cold, but

my darling, you are not broken. You will remember how to love the night with her danger and fireflies and you will remember how to love your hair with the slight curl that will never straighten and you will remember that this body was a whole ocean undiscovered, that even you are still noticing new freckles and how your veins connect like tree branches.

When you feel whole again, it will not be because you have replaced him with the bitter smoke of another person. It will be at six in the morning when you are standing in the shower and are finally able to take a deep breath and feel a little okay again. It will be when you are sitting in bed with the moon peeking shy through your window, blushing with her white cheeks, and you will tilt your face up to her and say, “I’m sorry, my love, I had forgotten all that you gave me” and even though there will be no great shift or revelation, you will just be alright again.

My love: breathe. Cry until you are hollow and then fill your body with anything but the smell of his sheets.

"
Soft dies the light (part one) /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
"Before you know it it’s 3 am and you’re 80 years old and you can’t remember what it was like to have 20 year old thoughts or a 10 year old heart."
Unknown 
(via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

PENPAL

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Book Recommendations

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"Become a
force they
cannot help
but be
struck by."
Emma Bleker, you were meant to be held by hands that deserve you  (via paperieandpen)
"You know how advice is - you only want it if it agrees with what you wanted to do anyways."
John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent (via larmoyante)
omgcica:

omgcica
307