I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. I have secrets. I have a past. I overreact. I underestimate. I overestimate. I over-think everything. I dream big. I'm a free-spirit. I'm strong and determined. I love to look at the stars. I'm just a girl & that's all I want to be.
"Girls who run with the wolves aren’t here for boys to love."
kinda wish i could cuddle you right now. kinda wish i could run you over too.
hey you know what’s super fun and 0 calories
a) eating me out
(via mcliffourd)wanking bunker
but not like that.
Girl on the bus, seven years old
passed out in her mother’s lap
with tired eyes from staring at
the tops of Ferris wheels and
cotton candy machines.
There’s so much tired in her eyes,
just like mine
and one day she will not wake up
full of life.
Old man with grey hair and a soft smile and gentle eyes,
hands that know how to work.
I bet he collects things,
stares at pennies from 1942 through a magnifying glass,
wondering where the world went wrong.
The boy in front of me,
with a polo hat and coke.
I bet he plays soccer, basketball maybe,
spends his nights across the table from his mother
and never stops talking
so he can forget about the empty seat beside her.
Three stops later:
a boy, nineteen,
grey Adidas bag
and eyes to match,
tattoos and a flat-brimmed hat
arm in a sling from falling
off his skateboard last week.
He’s running away from something,
he’s got cities and street signs in his eyes
from all the roads he’s traveled
trying to get away from himself.
Two seats up, one to the right,
a husband and wife
with three kids, all grown up.
They were in love once, but now
they’re not so sure.
Woman with bruised knees,
gardener’s hands and plants stemming
from her fingers.
Two couples that spend weekends on boats,
talking about who they’re going to sue next,
talking about this town like it’s the greatest thing
instead of half-dead and burning down.
We were made up of empty promises
and counterfeit affection.
Of shallow laughter
And dwindling attention.
Here’s to strong women. May we know them. May we be them. May we raise them.(via z-bug) The Hum of Nostalgia
Just another story you tell, just a girl you loved in high school. That’s all I am now.K.L, A journal entry I found that dates back to 18th August, 2013 (via aztecianlipstick)
(via aztecianlipstick)Lost in daisies.
I would rather die of passion than of boredom.Vincent Van Gogh (via goddessmorrigan)a pleasure to burn