(via nevver)
For Intellect. For Emotion. For Substance.
When you’re happy, you enjoy the music. But, when you’re sad, you understand the lyrics.
Where has my mind gone? Seems I’ve lost touch with my own sanity. It’s been quite some time since I last remember the tease of a lucid rationale. You see, I used to be a writer. At least, I used to call myself one. There was a time when the words would flow through my fingertips. Every letter inching its way onto a screen, one right after the other, forming words and making sense of some kind of emotion. Now these words are lost. Or maybe I’ve used them all up. Maybe I’ve overdosed. I used to get high off my own mental jargon, a soliloquy of inner turmoil so suffocating it made my heart bleed. I used to fiend off emotions that lay trapped between text and context, finding salvation in a written form of creed. Now these words are baited by the swift breeze of being, of living a life so tainted with busy, it becomes work. Writing has become a chore, an agonizing servitude. What once was passion has turned into a fading euphoria.
“You know, when you get old, in life, things get taken from you. I mean, that’s… that’s… that’s a part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losin’ stuff. You find out life’s this game of inches, so is football. Because in either game - life or football - the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it. One half second too slow, too fast and you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us…”
(Source: cherdandelions)
There was a time when it was illegal for someone my skin tone to date, let alone marry, a person of my boyfriends skin tone. But we got over that. It’s called an evolving standard of decency. No one is born intolerant. I’m pro-people, are you?
Twenty-six
With age comes wisdom. Today, I am wise enough not to trust, prudent enough to embrace the wall I’ve spent my whole life building. I’ve learned to depend on my instincts and mask nervous butterflies with resilience. If I counted age by the number of friends at my side, I would be infantile. If these years were chapters, I’ve spent too much time writing of anger. Every year is a reminder that life is too short to dwell and just long enough to enjoy the moment. Today, I am wise enough to love more than hate, surrounding myself with others lucky enough to love as much as I do. To those who circle in and out, your time will come to stay. I’ve learned timing is everything and everyone is on their own schedule. If I counted age by the number of lovers I thought I had, I would be ancient. If I counted the ones that mattered, I would have only one birthday to celebrate. If these years were lyrics, I haven’t spent enough time listening to the love songs. With age… comes gratitude.
“Mirrors” -Justin Timberlake
“I don’t wanna lose you now
I’m lookin’ right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold
Show me how to fight for now
And I’ll tell you baby, it was easy
Comin’ back into you once I figured it out
You were right here all along…”
(Source: mayaaapapayaaa)
There’s no religion that could save me
No matter how long my knees are on the floor
(Source: questionall, via truth-has-a-liberal-bias)
11,000 Plays
Taylor Swift
I Knew You Were Trouble
“Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago…”
(Source: ryunf)
My heart is soaked in defeat, drowning in this magnitude of self-doubt and loathing. Feels like I’ve fallen too far out of the reach for kindness and into a disparity amongst souls as lost as mine. I’m overwhelmed with un-triumphant battles in a war too trifling to win. This life is expressionless, devoid of meaning and lacking passion. Where does one find the will to live when it is lacking of will to start?
‘When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall.’ -Mahatma Gandhi
My thoughts and prayers are with the families of those lost in Newton, Connecticut.
(Source: lacidactyle)
