Never apologize for burning too brightly or collapsing into yourself every night. That is how galaxies are made.
Tyler Kent White  (via nyu-tah)

(Source: allwereallyneedisweed, via floatingwiththetide)


Enchanted pathway
I don’t know what I want.
2am thoughts (via phoe-bs)

(Source: phoe-bs, via waveyjayronal)

I’m slipping through the cracks of your fingers. I just wish you had the sense to close your fists.
Rachel Wolchin (via kushandwizdom)

(via nomadiclunatic)

How many calories does crying yourself to sleep burn?





Sun and Moon. Within a Tree Stump.

oh wow this is my favorite

this is gorgeous
Depression is stupid and not a thing that makes me a better writer. One time I went a whole year without writing and I stayed in bed and drank. Fuck your Bukowskisms. I want sunlight and love and running down some street I’ve never been on where it’s warm and cool at the same time and I’m smiling. I want nothing to ever be bad again- and I don’t mean that I want a life free of conflict, I mean that I want a life free of meaningless conflict. Not being able to will oneself to take a shower or leave the house is meaningless. There is nothing to be gained, no lesson to be learned from that kind of life. My heart is stale, my prose is stale. Give me fire if you want to hurt me. Give me something I can taste. There’s nothing romantic or mysterious about where I am. There’s nothing here worth holding onto.
By Joshua Espinoza  (via quibbler)

(Source: doubtsbestally, via queenh0neyb)