Theme
daydreamingruby:

"I love you but you don’t know what you’re talking about"

daydreamingruby:

"I love you but you don’t know what you’re talking about"

(via fa-uxreal)

"I just hope that one day—preferably when we’re both blind drunk—we can talk about it."
— J.D. Salinger (via ontelbaar)

(Source: orsomethinglikethatreally, via 1000ravens)

"My mother taught me this trick: if you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning, for example homework homework homework homework homework homework homework homework homework, see? Nothing. Our existence she said is the same way. You watch the sunset too often it just becomes 6 pm you make the same mistake over and over you stop calling it a mistake. If you just wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up one day you’ll forget why."
Repetition by Phil Kaye (via electric-wish)

(Source: myheartgoesbumbumbum, via sul-k)

rupikaur:

home by rupi kaur
"It’s hard to stay mad, when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life."
— American Beauty, (1999)

(Source: plantjesus, via 1000ravens)

"

The truth is you already know what it’s like. You already know the difference between the size and speed of everything that flashes through you and the tiny inadequate bit of it all you can ever let anyone know. As though inside you is this enormous room full of what seems like everything in the whole universe at one time or another and yet the only parts that get out have to somehow squeeze out through one of those tiny keyholes you see under the knob in older doors. As if we are all trying to see each other through these tiny keyholes.

But it does have a knob, the door can open. But not in the way you think…The truth is you’ve already heard this. That this is what it’s like. That it’s what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you’re a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know this, and of course you try to manage what part they see if you know it’s only a part. Who wouldn’t? It’s called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it’s why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali—it’s not English anymore, it’s not getting squeezed through any hole.

So cry all you want, I won’t tell anybody.

"
— David Foster Wallace, Oblivion (via s-trast)

(Source: splitterherzen, via s-trast)

"I have sea foam in my veins, I understand the language of waves."
— Le Testament d’Orphée (via youcraftybastard)

(Source: splitterherzen, via seaduction)

"My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing."
— Marcel Proust (via easymomentsandobsession)

(Source: quotes-shape-us, via misteree)

dappledwithshadow:

9 versions of Morning on the Seine, by Claude Oscar Monet

c. 1897

(via misteree)

euo:




Morning, 2010, oil on canvas, 60 x 80 cm; Private collection, Los Angeles, USAMilan Nenezic

euo:

Morning, 2010, oil on canvas, 60 x 80 cm; Private collection, Los Angeles, USA
Milan Nenezic

(via coffeekaling)

thisishangingrockcomics:

excerpt from an older thing i abandoned cause it sucked

(via bruised-lovers)

(Source: xsztuka, via sad-dweeb)

(via rubyetc)