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THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE I am trying to see things in perspective. My dog wants a bite of my peanut butter chocolate chip bagel. I know she cannot have this, because chocolate makes dogs very sick. My dog does not understand this. She pouts and wraps herself around my leg like a scarf and purrs and tries to convince me to give her just a tiny bit. When I do not give in, she eventually gives up and lays in the corner, under the piano, drooping and sad. I hope the universe has my best interest in mind like I have my dogs. When I want something with my whole being, and the universe withholds it from me, I hope the universe thinks to herself: “Silly girl. She thinks this is what she wants, but she does not understand how it will hurt.

THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE by Blythe Baird (via halluzinogen)

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Salt on my lips

After three weeks of charting planetary alignments and how the moon waxed and waned, we realized the ocean might never return. By then the shore was a map of the ocean floor, only lifeless and dehydrated. The vultures planned feasts 3 times a day. I couldn’t name all the species of fish, but I counted 75 whales. I remember reading Moby Dick, I remember these terrifying creatures and their strength and how they swallowed men whole. I dug my toes into the sand, I watched the turtles slowly move to find their missing eggs as we searched for our missing ocean, or their ocean. I pasted sea shells on my body, I counted the grains of sand, I looked out at a perpetual horizon that once crashed froth and salt onto my skin and now was a dessert. How long would we live in this desert, could we become herders of camel. Will I wear scarves and how hot will it get. These are more statements than questions. The smell of rotting fish will stain my insides, and the people are panicking. The leaders have left, water is a commodity. ​Did you go with the ocean? The sea-shells are your touch. I don’t ask around for you, I just wait with the others. We keep track of the days in the sand, a running tally of how long it’s been or maybe how long we have left. When I sleep, which is rare, I dream of you climbing up my shore, your hands stretching out with the force of the ocean. Water is everywhere. My hair is soaking wet, I wake up drenched. It hasn’t been below 115 degrees since you disappeared. Do you remember what salt tasted like on my lips? We don’t have much time left.

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I don't need you But I want you Always

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Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Kurt Vonnegut (via wordsnquotes)

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I remember that one time I loved someone so much I decided to learn to love myself first

thnksfrthpngns (via wnq-writers)

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You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and God damn it, you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about the business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way.

Elizabeth Taylor (via wnq-movies)

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I have now learned the true meaning of partnership. Love him to Pluto and back.

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Call home at least once a week. It’s a proven fact that we call home less the older we get. And that’s wrong. It should be the other way around. As we get older, our parents get older.

Randy Pausch (via fy-perspectives)

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