— Likeawritingdesk (via Letsbelonelytogetherr)

©-shelovesskiez

My heart is not broken, just bruised in the shape of your name.

I stopped looking for you.

Stopped checking up on you.

Stopped rereading old messages.

Stopped wondering if you still cared.

Because none of it would bring you back.

You’ve been gone for a long time.

You checked out long before you walked away.

And I kept holding on to someone

who had already let go of me.

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

Marcel Proust, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Marcel Proust

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

nostalgicraindrops

Emily Brontë, from "Wuthering Heights," originally published in 1847