Unimportant Species

Morgan Matson, Second Chance Summer
(via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

A thousand moments that I had just taken for granted ― mostly because I had assumed that there would be a thousand more.

venuskissed:

queen of getting thru it!!! even if I gotta cry along the way….bitch imma get through it!!!!

(via c-teardrops)

side-of-sensuality 
(via wnq-writers)

(via wnq-writers)

I frequently find myself lost in thoughts of you.

(Source: pre-party, via pre-party)

bellygangstaboo:

what does being straight have to do with appreciating the sunset..

(via c-teardrops)

jasontod:

#when your jawline could cut a bithc but ur also cute af

(via voldemorts--nose-deactivated202)

leighchyler:

supergirl season 2: a summary

(via voldemorts--nose-deactivated202)

C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
(via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say My tooth is aching than to say My heart is broken.

sadcorebaby  (via wnq-writers)

(via wnq-writers)

I know I love you from all the pain you cause me.

(via schmergo)

(via kushandwizdom)

do not drown yourself to prove loyalty for someone else. people who love you don’t have to kill you for proof.

Hafiz
(via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being.

dingyzone
(via wnq-writers)

(via wnq-writers)

You would find her often, her nose buried in a book. Fists clenched tight and her face a reflection of all the myriad emotions she experienced.
You would find her often, gazing out of the window. Staring sadly at the sky. Her mind lost in the world that only existed in the dusty pages of her books.
You would find her often, forcing her eyes shut. Finding solace in the darkness and forcing brightness away, for the promise of brightness was too luring yet always empty.
You would find her spending hours pacing back and forth in front of her bookshelf. Giving words to all that she felt, often borrowing phrases from the books she had read.
You would find her often lying on her bed laughing over a book. Sometimes the sound of her own laughter surprised her. It was a rare sound after all.
You’d find her cuddled up on a couch, hidden underneath a blanket, refusing to get up. Surrendering herself to laziness.

She was the kind of girl who could eat up a book within hours but was too lazy to shave her legs for days.
She never found herself brave enough to fix her hair. The one who always shied from the idea of looking at herself in the mirror.
You’d find her often sighing over the way she looked. After all it was never heads that she wanted to turn.
Hearts? Maybe.