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St Nicholas Church, Prague

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to the one,

that picked up every last piece of a hollowed writer from crumbled letters left unseen by eyes that should have done more than just be pretty when the sun hits them at the right angle

that burned all of the bad memories away and told me to stay right there. and wouldn’t you know it. she came right back. each and everytime that i thought loneliness would be my only friend, she proved me wrong whenever she got the opportunity. and i know now that you don’t need to meet someone to feel love or to know that they’ll always have your best interest at heart.

that taught me how to look at things from a different angle, a new perspective. you don’t need to be so angry all of the time she said, and even if you are, there’s only ever more to love. she said this while she sang all of my favorite songs, i know now that you don’t need ears to jam to music. you only need to have the courage to follow the vibrations of an emptiness that moves you along enough just to keep you barely alive in your buried coffin as you use your last bits of oxygen to light up a candle to read your favorite poems— all of the things that you instilled into me, you will claim nothing, but i know better.

that is both my sword and shield. you’re my warrior friend, my poetics and aesthetics finally speaking back to me. i’ve been lost for so long. lately i’ve been smoking less and thinking more. lately i’ve been writing less and living more. lately i’ve been crying less and smiling more. lately i’ve been dying less and trying more. lately i’ve been hating less and loving more. you’re not just some stranger that i haven’t met, you’re like the connection between the seasons and the changing months— you always know the difference between loving me and showing me how to love myself. an important lesson that spring doesn’t teach to winter and a sad, silent kiss that autumn gives to summer. we’re all full of ourselves when the end is near, but i’ve been meaning to listen more and talk less. you showed me the importance of having patience. you’re full of magical things, but sometimes i can’t help it… there’s just a sadness that oozes from your happiness. something that’s so damn familiar to me. sometimes i wake up and i’m afraid that you won’t be here tomorrow. sometimes i wake up and i’m afraid that i won’t be here for you tomorrow. sometimes i wake up and none of that matters— i have you today, so tomorrow can wait the fuck up.

that watched me down those pills month after month after month after month. promises of quitting, but relapsing the very next hour. i’ve disappointed myself more times than i can count, but you’ve never once laughed at me for having an addiction. you understand. you understood. you just loved me and that… that changed me.

that writes poetry to me every now and again. i know that life is short and we spent a good portion of it not fully appreciating the beauty of being here. sometimes home doesn’t feel like home and a high can’t be reclaimed once it’s all said and done. you’re so much like my favorite color that you became my favorite person and no matter how often i may change— i’ll always swear to love you right. there’s a time and a place for everything. there’s also never any rush to accept myself. so when i finally gave up everything that has destroyed me and finally started to understand why i was there in that hell-bent mind frame. it’s easy to see it now. everything in this life of ours… everything does indeed happen for a reason. i know that i have a hard time expressing myself to those that i love, but if you ever find yourself reading this— just know that i’m alive and well. i just hope that you can forgive me for being so angry, the truth is i’m still learning how to control myself and all of my actions. i know that words can hurt. i know that i’m not perfect. i know that i can still be worth it. i also know that we’re going to get through anything that life throws at us.

that doesn’t like to end a sentence with the word goodbye. i love you. i know that you’ve made many mistakes and that you’re still learning. still chasing after love. still learning how to love. still writing about love. i know that you’re trying and i’m so proud of you. maybe all of this writing is for nothing and nothing will ever have any true value. but how would we know unless we tried to find out? so write until your hands bleed and change until you’re no longer able to recognize yourself for who you were when you were weak and unstable. i’ve been trying so hard to finally forgive you for how you have been and i think i’m finally making progress.

that doesn’t feel like they’re loved enough. maybe this is how you found this page. pure poetry and straight hits of prose straight into your veins, words that you swore you could’ve written. words that made you feel like you’re finally understood. words that doesn’t need an explanation. like lyrics to a song or slivers of clouds in the sky, how long has it been since you’ve last seen yourself in the mirror? when did you feel the most okay? i’m so tired of living like i don’t have a purpose. i think that’s why i started writing. when you love something so damn much, but manage to break it. when you wanted to set it free, but end up suffocating it instead. i wrote this poem for you because it’s true. you did hurt said person. you also hurt yourself. yes, it’s true. you might not be able to fix it. but it doesn’t mean that you can’t go on with your life. how else can a flower grow if it doesn’t break out of the seed or breach through the soil? i’ve been so many different things in my life, but what i’ve never been is someone that can’t point something out. sometimes you have to look at yourself real close and just slow down. press pause. you’re more like a slow jam on a sunday morning and when you need to be— a screamo on a friday or an acoustic piece on a thursday. sometimes you’re a little bit misunderstood and sometimes you’re too predictable. life is all about balance. so if you need to hear something, listen to this. you’re not just something that i would listen to for the rest of my life, but something that i’ve been a part of— because we all feel the same in one way or another. readers and writers. i know that you may be hurting right now… but one day? you’re going to wake up and be happy that this was one hell of a ride.

that believed in me, i wanted you to know from the bottom of my heart that i’m so thankful to have you in my life. and the saddest thing is, that person? it could be you. the person gripping onto your phone when it’s 2 in the morning and you’ve been trying to not wait for a response from someone that will never answer you back. the person taking a warm bath after a year long battle of depression and you’re finally so high that you’re about to give up. the person that’s outside in the rain even after hearing your grandmother in the back of your mind telling you to keep your hair dry because it’s gonna get you sick, it’s not that you don’t care, it just felt nice to be there, in the moment. the person that’s reading this because they’re not feeling up to the task of writing because they don’t feel like their words are worth any attention from any set of eyes to read, i want you to write your best piece and sit there and love it yourself because how can you expect someone to love what you write if you don’t even love it yourself? i think that’s the hardest part about writing sometimes— we’re so damn hard on ourselves. the perfectionist inside that keeps plucking away the weeds until there is nothing left. i would rather have a few problems than a clean slate, some more interesting scars to explain and a few less hearts to break. to the person that’s reading this because they haven’t heard it in awhile— i wrote this not only because i can, but because i also wanted you to know that you’ve been doing a good job at loving yourself. really. you may feel like you’re doing a shitty job, but this thing doesn’t come with an instruction manual and extra screws. you get one shot at this. and i just wanted to be a little bit more gentle with that topic. so let’s end this with something sweet and soft.

that’s reading this. i don’t care where you’re at in life or where you haven’t been. i don’t care about your successes or your failures. i just want you to know two things. something that we should hear everyday even if by complete strangers… i love you even if you don’t have the strength to love yourself. i’m proud of you even if you don’t have proof that you’ve been doing a great job. you are more than you can ever know.

— you’re going to beat this. i believe in you.

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The Original Riverdale Gang 

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Mi metti di buon umore e neanche lo sai

Unknown

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#most dramatic moment on the whole show

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when it comes down to it, the only voice i ever need to hear is riley’s. i love you. it’s always been you. i’ll always love you.

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how cute is this

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#and this is how you otp

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When it comes down to it, the only voice I ever need to hear… is Riley’s.

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“Posso assicurarti che non smetteró mai di volerti bene e di sperare che tu sia felice. Posso assicurarti che ti auguro il meglio.Posso assicurarti che ti penseró spesso e che ripenseró ai momenti felici insieme. Ma non voglio piú essere lì per te. Farmi in quattro per te e non ricevere nulla. Non voglio fare piú per te ció che mai da te avró. Sono del parere che nulla sia dovuto. I rapporti non vanno avanti a prescindere. Se non te ne prendi cura, marciscono. Per quanto importante tu fossi per me, niente é dovuto. Niente é scontato. E per quanto le tue chiacchiere sul “io ci sono per te” fossero belle, erano i fatti a mancarmi. Perció non chiamarmi stronza se smetto di preoccuparmi per te, se do prioritá ad altro. Ho iniziato quando ho visto che dovevo elemosinare per avere la tua attenzione. Per essere considerata. Non giudicarmi egoista se vado via, troppe volte tu non c'eri. Troppe volte c'eravamo solo io e la speranza che tu capissi. Magari capirai col tempo che io ero li per te anche quando non lo meritavi. E hai commesso l'errore di darlo per scontato.”

— Katia Vergone

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“I met people like storms and people like hurricanes, men like tornadoes and women like warplanes but you were a summer breeze curling the surface of the sea and maybe that’s why I wasn’t prepared for the destruction you left in me.”

— // of storms and people j.d.m.

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Brenton Thwaites

Gifs were not made by me, I found them on the internet, I’m just sharing.

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He’s my family.

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english and portuguese words

meanings by: other-wordly

like/reblog if you save

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“People talk about the tall blondes with the pretty blue eyes. They talk about the handsome gingers with they’re many freckles. They’ll talk about the boys with abs and who are skinny but muscular. They’ll talk about the boys with the flip in their hair and the scruff on their face. That’s not who I talk about though. I talk about the boy with dark brown eyes, dark brown, curly hair that falls over his forehead. I talk about the boy who doesn’t have the perfect body, who never had the scruff on his face. I talk about the boy who’s heart pounded when I was near. But to me that boy was perfect. His sheepish smile that sent shivers of joy through my body. His laugh at all of my odd actions that gave me a reason to live. All the “I love you”’s that we shared day after day. All of the kisses we had on his back porch going home. Now I talk about the boy who brings pain to my stomach, who brings tears to my eyes. I talk about the boy who I just want to kiss one last time. I talk about the boy who loved me unconditionally, but no longer does. Now I talk about the boy who doesn’t talk about me. Who doesn’t think about me or wish for me. The worst part is? They’re both the same boy.”

— Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #2