passionnedenoir:

wallflowerbloom:

(Dead Poets Society, 1989)

You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.
Anita Ofokansi, Literary Sexts (via larmoyante)
You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word ‘shatter.’ I want to be with someone.
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (via larmoyante)
I wrote this to myself at the beginning of the semester and had it sent to my mailbox during midterm week. It felt good to read today. It’s nice to be reminded that I’m my own biggest supporter; to know I’ll always have someone on my team #selflove

I wrote this to myself at the beginning of the semester and had it sent to my mailbox during midterm week. It felt good to read today. It’s nice to be reminded that I’m my own biggest supporter; to know I’ll always have someone on my team #selflove

I forgave everybody, I gave up, I got drunk.
Jack Kerouac, On the Road (via stxxz)
I’ll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.
Cheryl Strayed (via meganfalley)
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the  
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks,
the wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips aglow in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,  
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are  
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.  
I want to go up to them and say Stop,  
don’t do it—she’s the wrong woman,  
he’s the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,  
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you have not heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty face turning to me,  
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome face turning to me,  
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,  
but I don’t do it. I want to live. I  
take them up like the male and female  
paper dolls and bang them together  
at the hips, like chips of flint, as if to  
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
"I Go Back to May 1937" - Sharon Olds
Wait it out. One day you will find a lover who knows your heart is made of cathedral glass. They will know how to touch you in all the right ways without you praying. Wait it out. One day you will find a lover who sees the slave you are to yourself. They will pay enough attention to see you tremble under some words you speak. Wait it out. One day you will find yourself. You will find yourself in the nights the weather has been nicer than usual and you’re able to gaze at the stars. You will find yourself in the compliments of strangers. You will find yourself in the doors you hold open for others. You will find yourself in the books you can’t put down in the library. You will find yourself when the new recipe you tried turns out perfectly. You will find yourself in breathtaking views. Wait it out. Your heart is not stagnant; it beats for beautiful things. Wait it out. One day you will find a lover who knows exactly what that means.
Noelle (via nonsensicalnoelle)