What you are

of softness—oranges peeled like microphones. gentle hands touching chords. day emptied of weight. 

… its too early for this bullshit.

— Me, no matter what time it is. (via lastisle)

(via abbigshmail)

My life can be measured in increments of 7-9 days

In which I attempt to be an adult and grow out my nails. Then convince myself I can feel stuff underneath them, panic, and clip them all off like a child.

“Don’t live the same year 75 times and call it a life.”
— Robin Sharma (via severs)

(via climbover)

atnerls:

no matter how many striped t shirts u own there will always be variations of stripes u dont have so the safe thing to do is just buy them all if you can

(via samanthasmaria)

"She’s got dreams on her sleeves, / so I’ll throw mine away / hey, hey"

"At this slow funeral
where forgiveness is the erasure of palms
and everything is terribly deep,
you are blind and so very brave
to be a stranger.”

—“Poem in Which You Invent Fear” by Eszter Takacs