"I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me."

— Thought Catalog  (via veg-pits)

"I fall in love all the time. With music, film, poetry. A smile. A bum. But rarely the whole of someone."

— Benedict Smith (via perfect)

"

Two other women, also breast cancer survivors, said their husbands left them after they were diagnosed. Both had to have mastectomies (in case anyone doesn’t know, this is the surgical operation to remove one or both breasts).

The first woman said her husband told her that he would rather see her dead than see her lose her breasts. The second woman had her operation and waited all day to be picked up by her husband, who never arrived. By nightfall, one of the nurses offered to give her a ride, and she came home to find the house empty.

Obviously, these are extreme cases of a man’s reaction to his wife’s breast cancer, but this is what I see when I see the “I ♥ Boobies” bracelets. I see love of the body parts, not the person being treated—not the patient, not the victim, not the survivor.

"

My Beef with the “I Love Boobies” Bracelets (via vamoose)

"I don’t love studying. I hate studying. I like learning. Learning is beautiful."

— Natalie Portman (via vanity-scribblings)

"If you want to kill yourself, kill what you don’t like. I had an old self that I killed. You can kill yourself too, but that doesn’t mean you got to stop living."

— Vargus, Archie’s Final Project (via raspberrying)

"I sit before flowers

hoping they will train me in the art

of opening up."

— Shane Koyczan, The Student (via larmoyante)

"Blooming, I’m becoming hazy and disappearing like rotten flowers."

— 有村竜太郎   (via thefuneralofhearts)

"You cut up a thing that’s alive and beautiful to find out how it’s alive and why it’s beautiful, and before you know it, it’s neither of those things, and you’re standing there with blood on your face and tears in your sight and only the terrible ache of guilt to show for it."

— Clive Barker  (via milktree)

i want to be a tragedy
i want to be hurt
everything hurt me
so why can’t i
hurt me?

i want to be piercing
collar bones
and a fluttering
ribcage

i want to be
a jagged
blade
full of angry scars

my life is bottled up
in books i want to read
songs i want to sing
places i want to be
art i want to create
but
i find myself
not doing the things
i want to do
i just wait for the
days to end
so i can be at
peace