Closed heart, open mind.
I'll be here and there.

I’m learning to wake up every day and catch gold in eager palms

Lips dark off wine

I don’t know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices underwater. They are distorted.
— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are Not the Only Fruit

(Source:, via ssdmm)

I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough.
I have become rather fearful I suppose. 

(Source: dollpoetry, via ssdmm)



Dios mio
Will I be something?
Am I something?

And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be.

— Anis Mojgani

(Source: happypeopledodrugs, via sadyoungliterarygirls)

Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
 William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

(via ccems)

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