"I just, I can’t describe what I feel for you but it starts from the pit of my stomach and warms my chest until I can practically feel every nerve ending in my body and all I want is for you to touch my skin."
- (via versteur)

(Source: psych-facts)

"You never text or talk to me anymore. You never keep conversations with me anymore. You kinda pushed me away. So, I did the same."
- (via psych-facts)
"Man often becomes what he believes himself to be. If I keep on saying to myself that I cannot do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end by really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning."
- Mahatma Gandhi (via gettingahealthybody)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via gettingahealthybody)

"But I believe in true love, you know? I don’t believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does."
- John Green (via purplebuddhaproject)

(via fitness-is-a-life)

"So I write another letter.
I love you very much. You are the city I live in; you are the name of the month and the day. I float, salty and heavy with tears, barely keeping my head above water. I seem to be sinking, but even there, underwater-where the phone doesn’t ring and rumors don’t reach, where it is impossible to meet you-I will go on loving you.
I love you, yet you force me to hang onto the running boards of your life. My hands are freezing. I’m not jealous of people: I’m jealous of your time. It is impossible not to see you.
So what can I do when there is no substitute for love? You know nothing about the weight of all things."
- Viktor Shklovsky, from Zoo, or Letters Not About Love (via ahuntersheart)

(Source: youarethegreenwonderofjune, via deeplystained)

"If I were truly being heroic, I’d actually mean what I’m saying right now. But I don’t. I want you to stay with me, but I realize how selfish that is. That’s why I’m telling you to go."
- Kristen Lippert-Martin, Tabula Rasa  (via 5000letters)

(Source: sempiternale, via a-thousand-words)

"The other night I called the boy
who use to love me and softened my nails
against my teeth until he said my name.
I’ll do things like that sometimes, just for
the thrill of it. Meanwhile, the current boy says,
‘don’t you have anything else in your wardrobe
besides black?’ Once he told me that I even
smell lonely. Cinnamon rubbed into my wrists,
salt sprinkled at my hairline; this is how I keep
my body mine. This city drags me by my hair,
rips potholes into my stomach. I watch the news
and choke on the list of the dead. I don’t count
the miles but I know the exact distance I am
from home. Sometimes I am jolted awake from
dreams about men who are disguised as wolves.
At seven, my idea of love was my mother singing
patiently to the pear tree in the backyard. Now
I beg for it like a dog at the dinner table nuzzling
your knee, drooling all over your best pair of shoes.
I only wear lipstick when I want my mouth
to be noticed. There is so much that I don’t want
to do anymore and I am running and running.
Sometimes I scale my own body looking for
a window just to see if the light is on."
- Kristina Haynes, “Honest” (via fleurishes)

(via deeplystained)