blogging is for losers

we have to keep abortion legal.

we know who we are.

we are wearing rosemary buds and flowers. we are madly in love. we are waiting. we are doomed. we are never meant to be. we try. we fail. we are the kids of the river. we come from willow trees. we know how to make one happy. we are mothers and daughters. we tell you stories, stories that make you wanna hear more, but then you get scared. we are cinnamon and vanilla. we are home. we are strawberries. we miss a certain someone. we are never missed. we are time, we pass. we make you tea and put a little honey in it. we wait. we are sleepless. we can see everything. wa want to tell you, but you won’t hear. we are here. you are gone. we won’t speak of you. we dream of roses and ginger. we will wait. we always wait. you will never come. we will be here.

(Pic: Dominico Tojetti, Ophelia)

(Source: knockturn, via goldenfools)

we pray for what we want, the way we want.

(Source: missmonstruosite, via godmotherwolf)

””“”Trace can be seen as an always contingent term for a “mark of the absence of a presence, an always-already absent present”, of the ‘originary lack’ that seems to be “the condition of thought and experience” “”“”“

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trace_%28deconstruction%29

(via blackorchid)

there are some places where sleep is still something possible.

(via thegreenwolf)

it’s time.

sometimes we forget that love is blind. sometimes we deliriously hope that we can change him. sometimes we don’t wanna see things as they are. how little he is. how pretty we are.

(Source: ratshavefeelingstoo, via godmotherwolf)

I wonder.

(Source: alwaysmarilynmonroe, via charmaineolivia)