1. Lay on the floor of your shower until you can breathe again. Water will always love to love your skin.
2. Start writing with the intention of filling up one page. Write until your pen stops working.
3. Reread a book that once made you cry. Learn something new on every page. Notice how different chapter make you sad. Notice how the book didn’t change and grow; you did.
4. Sleep with your windows open. You can hear both the rain and boys drunkenly singing Frank Sinatra on their deck. Both are equally good.
5. Don’t forget that honey will always taste sweet, but the best way to eat it is off your fingers, laughing.
6. Remember that, sometimes, getting out of bed is enough.
Writing is an underestimated art,
you are painting colorful images
in people’s minds by using words
of black and white.
Nudity is natural—none of us were born with clothes on. Nudity does not even have any necessary relationship to sex (you can very well have sex with a lot of your clothes on), and thus it should not be constrained to purely sexual contexts.
A boy may be as disagreeable as he pleases, but when a girl refuses to crap sunshine on command, the world mutters darkly about her moods
You have more to do
than be weighed down
by pretty or beautiful
you are a fiery heart
and a wicked brain
do not let your soul
be defined by its shell.
I hate crying. Because even after the emotions are gone, you still have those salty remnants stuck to your eyes for hours to remind you that you’re supposed to be sad.
I have come to realize that making yourself happy is most important. Never be ashamed of what you feel. You have the right to feel any emotion that you want, and to do what makes you happy.
Amazing and upsetting how many people fail to comprehend this.
"why dont you just give him a chance"
idk because im not physically or mentally attracted to him and ‘but he likes you’ or ‘but hes really nice’ isnt going to change the fact that im not interested
I shiver, thinking how easy it is to be totally wrong about people, to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole.
I want to fall to sleep with you,
and I could care less
whether it is in
layers upon layers
or only our skin–
all I really want is to wake up
where I end and you begin.
When you realize nothing is lacking, the whole world belongs to you.
Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.
People run from rain but sit in bathtubs full of water.
oh my god i’m fucking sick of this generation’s mentality that your sadness is beautiful and somebody will fix you and all this fucking john green shit nobody will find you in a bookstore reading bukowski and want to lie with you and nobody will kiss your scars and you will not be like effie and freddie you’ve got to be your own fucking hero and surround yourself with positivity