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~I am the product of endless books~

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The honest to God truth is that I’m mad at myself. I should’ve known better.
Miranda Kenneally, Racing Savannah
(via wordsnquotes)
She is spring in the winter
And clear skies on a cloudy day
I can’t explain why or how it happens, some days I just wake up and I cannot find myself. Im not even sure where I go, I retreat so far inside my own head.
Embrace the days
on which you are still hurting.
Sore muscles have always
been a sign of growth.
Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)
Isn’t it funny how you can carry so much pain and torment within you, yet still have the desire and capacity to spread only love?
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald, 1925 (via 1000bestbooks)
I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving.
Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait.
(via wordsnquotes)
I don’t think that people accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense. I think it makes people terribly uncomfortable.
Somewhere out there your soul mate is lying in bed wondering if their soulmate is also lying in bed and you can appreciate the fact that they are probably thinking about you as much as you are thinking about them.
Beeshelbs (via wnq-writers)
…She was fearless and she was kind and she just seemed so invincible and she made me want to give up living when she died.