wrths-blog

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She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bone (via sundaylatte)

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You wanna know what living life to the fullest actually is? It’s waking up on a Monday morning with no complaints. It’s knowing you always deserve to laugh. It’s doing what feels right no matter what. It’s doing what you want to, no matter how stupid you look. It’s about being yourself, ‘cause no one can tell you you’re doing it wrong.

Unknown (via sundaylatte)

[wrths-blog]

if they were never my friends, then my fall couldn’t have left a scratch on them anyway.

i don’t understand. there’s a difference between leading someone in the right direction, then feeling discouraged when they walk the other way; and forcing your own opinion on someone then guilt tripping them after the fact. can’t you understand that my actions weren’t in rebellion towards you for the sake of rebellion, but rather to avoid conflict with you? i did feel guilty. and i did feel bad for wanting what i wanted. but it was my own decision. it was also the experiences i needed to go through to get to this point.

maybe i’m not mature enough to understand why i should apologize. i know my actions affect those around me. and it’s not as if i don’t care about the ones who love me. but i feel forced to make decisions with implications i never intended. i know things should be black and white but i’m not at that level.

at this moment i feel cornered. she doesn’t understand me and i don’t understand her. i am closed. and it terrifies me a little that the thought even crossed my mind to cut myself off from that life. i don’t like what i see. and i’m angry. and i will probably be judged if they know this. and i wish there was someone i could talk to about it.

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my silence

i fell into this silence upon reading your poetry. because in my mind were flickering lights casting shadows into cobwebbed rooms.

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it’s like watching your home team lose. it’s the quiet melancholy sitting on your chest. it’s the nameless ache. you don’t know why it hurts, just that it does, and you’re helpless but you’re hoping and that’s gotta count for something. even if it’s a small something.

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Last night we camped out on a giant disc structure on top of a mountain that overlooks all of Los Angeles county. It was a good night.

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Girls are not machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.

Sylvia Plath (via quitline)

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The timing in which people enter your life is very important.

(via peachnaked)