Not Gonna Lie I’m Pretty Uncomfortable Like All The Time

“On the streets, / everything looks human. You forget / certain animals are bloodless injured. / You must imagine some other color / that means hurt.”

— Maya C. Popa, from “Broken Periodic”, American Faith

" As I leave my childhood home, I want to ask this old house : will you miss me like I'll miss you? Will you wonder how I've changed since I left? Will you keep being my home if I leave my heart behind."

- childhood days

Joseph Mallord William Turner

"The sun glows inside her chest

the moon echoes from her

eyes."

- Michaela Leventis

“She looked up at the stars and asked what it was like to fall. The stars twinkled sadly and replied with, ‘Oh, honey, you already have.’”

— Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #46 // Then, why does it hurt? (via vanillasweet)

“And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt and you sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point late, late, late at night, say just a bit before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns into cool and when you briefly wake up, you notice that you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep. And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull what’s warm - whether it’s something or someone - toward us, that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being sad in the world and ready for sleep, that’s happiness.”

— Paul Schmidtberger, Design Flaws of the Human Condition 

There really is such a softness in knowing that you look up at some of the same stars as people who lived 5000 years ago did.

“I Can’t Remember Where I Put My Phone Two Seconds Ago But I Vividly Remember Every Embarrassing Thing I’ve Said Or Done Since 2008” a book written by me

Temple of Asclepius (Aesculapius): Villa Borghese Gardens, Rome.

“He placed his mouth on her throat, kissing the words she could not utter. He seemed to divine where she wanted a kiss to fall next, what part of her body demanded to be warmed.”