mhyland

[mhyland]

I have decided that I am incompatible with this reality. Meet me in a parallel universe.

[mhyland]

A man holding his baby up to paintings and talking to him at an art gallery

[mhyland]

The purest form of love, I think, is having someone who wants to learn about you, from you and with you.

[mhyland]

pamella roland ss19

[mhyland]

being self-aware fucking sucks i wish i was a cucumber

[mhyland]

“Letters to the broken boy I see you very rarely, your depression makes you retreat into your cocoon surrounded with writing and things that calm you down. I see you, I know depression is never personal, but I still miss you. I miss our weird, energy infused, interesting conversations, where we could just talk for hours and hours without stopping. I miss us. You call me by a very specific nickname that makes me feels like a galaxy, all bright and far away. You think I am too young, and that I look too young, that I feel too young. How is it that I understand that you’re chasing a girl who will pull you down even further than you already are, in a deep bottomless pit that has become your life these past days? How much longer can you make it while providing someone with love unconditionally, irrevocably and not expecting anything in return? This is a letter to the boy who can always pull on my heartstrings, make me breathe a little shallower and make the possibility of an infinity seem a little less impossible. I could make you feel like the ocean, powerful and wild, beautiful and free. I could make you feel like the cosmos have descended to kiss your skin, and only your skin. I could make you feel like the king of the seven continents. I could make you feel like the keeper of my caged heart, aching to be set free. You are a diamond in a sea of mud, you are unique, beautiful and breathtaking. You shine and shine and shine, And I get more intrigued every time, Your voice can bring the sun down to its knees everyday, and your laugh can fill me with warmth and sunlight, filtering through my own cracks and crevices. Here’s to the broken boy who makes me feel like galaxies sometimes and black holes the other, Thanks for making me feel whole, even if you can’t make yourself feel whole.”

— thewriterthatnobodynoticed  (via wnq-writers)

[mhyland]

The Row F/W 2014

[mhyland]

moody

[mhyland]

[mhyland]

[mhyland]

[mhyland]

You can’t pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first.

Anonymous (via alittlebitoflace)

[mhyland]

let November be the start of everything beautiful, let “us” begin.

Maram Rimawi,  writing prompt #66: Write about November (via wnq-writers)

[mhyland]

[mhyland]

[mhyland]

[mhyland]