Paradisia

(via painfulblisss)

(Source: weheartit.com, via serious)

(via nomenu)

(Source: piccsy.com, via serious)

"The hardest thing is when you don’t want to, but you have to. It’s like you have to break your own heart. Like you have to take away your own happiness. It’s doing the worst thing that could ever happen to yourself, because you have to. So believe me when I say, I never wanted to leave you."

P.G.G ; jxd (via for-him-diaries)

(via nameless--girl)

"I never realized what a big deal that was. How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head."

Nina LaCour, Hold Still
(via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

"I love people who are nothing like the ordinary. The ones who were riding their bikes and skinny dipping and collecting pebbles while everyone else was where everyone else was. People who are raw and chaotic. They won’t know what to say in a conversation but they’ll tell you the physical properties of all nearby planets or play you an instrument or read you their favourite poem. They’ll show you versions of themselves in minute details and roll up their sleeves so you can see their scars. When they speak, they unknowingly say things that awaken an echo in you. When you look at them in the eye you can tell that they’ve been through more than most, but they’re wild and unapologetic, and they will look you in the eye. When you tell them your secret, they’ll treat it like a flower and put it behind their ear. I love people like that, and how could I not? They carry the kind of magic I’ve never seen before; they’ll untie their hair, shake it loose and make you fall in love with them. They’re so beautiful it’s impossible to believe the whole world isn’t pulled toward them the way you are, but because it isn’t so, it makes those people that much more special."

jasmin silja (via wnq-writers)

(via wnq-writers)

(via amazed)

"

I like having a conversation with myself; telling inside jokes to one another. It’s one of the things that keeps me sane.

In the morning when the sky is still young and courageous. Wearing shorts and a tank-top, holding a glass full of liquid of innocence. “What’s our plan today?” I ask.

“Why ask?“ My inner-self counters. “We could be doing something less exciting and chilling. Maybe something inspiring or thrilling and be as stupid as we can. I don’t know. Let’s figure it out now.” She replies beaming.

And I did everything out of instinct, not having a clue of anything and simply getting lost. Sometimes I was stumbled on the way, maybe got me a scratch or two but at the end of it, I’ve never felt more amazing than I did right then.

In the middle of the day when the sun is–at the highest–mature and poised. Leaving a bold mark the size full of lips on the mug’s rim. It’s filled with steaming awakening dark brew. “Let’s see,” I start. “I have to leave before eight, can’t afford to be late. Again. Today, you need to behave.”

My inner-self groans. Something I roll my eyes at because she knows me all too well. She is the part in me that I preserve the way she is. Untouched. She balances every impaired part of me.

Sometimes I was forced to participate in her ever kind of adventures. And they did not always end beautifully. She’s a disaster. Always doing everything disorderly—anything at all, is done like a three year old girl trying to eat cake by herself. A mess. But my kind of scenes were probably boresome to her. Each time she would talk me out of it saying, “It’s not what you want!” “Leave!” “You deserve better” and we ended up not talking to one another. I needed space.

I didn’t listen to my inner-self. It was heart-wrenching and draining at most knowing she probably was right. Again. But I know she felt just as tired as I was. She is me after all.

At the end of the day when moon is at peak. Mirroring the way the sun shines—not as bright and blinding. More like pastel and wise. Sporting on pyjamas; sitting on the couch bundled up with cushions in front of television. Sipping the heartwarming potion of happiness. Coming to realisation, we’re wounded, if our battle scars are any indication. But we survived, didn’t we? She and I are whole. She is me and I’m that part of her that will do things—out of my boundaries; out of my ever shaped logics—to keep her sanity.

inmostcave 
(via wnq-writers)

(via wnq-writers)

"Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don’t work."

James Frey, A Million Little Pieces
(via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)