“I loved the smell of ocean water. Salt always smells like memory.”
— Sherman Alexie
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take whatever opportunities you can use to improve yourself, but make sure to take things with a pinch of salt
it will be hard work to improve, but hard work shows you’re dedicated to move on
I met love for the first time at 18. Love was beautiful. Love was kind. Love was funny. Love was mine. Love was consuming. Love was impairing. Love gave me fear. Love gave me tears. Love drove me insane. Love gave me pain. Love was rough. Love wasn’t enough. Love was never a mistake. Love was just a heartbreak. Love was a lesson. Love was a blessing. Love became a memory but never forgotten.
I met love again at 24. Love was not perfect. Love was not what I expected. Love couldn’t sing but somehow it had the right ring. Love was a mess, but that never gave me stress. Love was warm, and I never felt like I was in harm. Love was content, and willing to stay dormant . Love became stagnant, much like a refrigerator’s magnet. Love was predictable, and it made me miserable. Love did not grow, and that was something I could not follow. Love had lost its connection, and we soon headed in different directions. Love ended but we befriended.
I met love again at 27. Love was a beautiful reflection. Love is alone, but happy. Love is still growing, but confidently. Love makes mistakes, but love is still learning. Love loves love.
-This is not a love story.
-m.t.t.
You ever get salty over something you know u have no right to be salty about and therefore u can’t talk about it without looking like a whiny bitch, so u just sit there marinating in ur own salt like some kind of human pickle
There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.
Beau Taplin, “And You” (via wordsnquotes)
You didn’t even give me a chance, you let me drown in my sea full of doubts and when I reached for your hand, you just pushed me down further.
giulswrites (via giulswrites)
I always saw you as fire: warm and comforting from afar, yet all burning passion and searing intensity up close, all-consuming flames swallowing me whole.
I found out too late that you’re really the ocean: cold and distant, your affections mercurial as the tides. You carry the sea’s briny essence in your bones; no wonder you are the reason that I cry.
You didn’t set out to ignite an inferno inside me; you only meant to douse the flames.
(via withinliminalspaces)
“I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they have forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.”
— Unknown (via clinginess)
This
(via skyl3r-f3lts)
I love your eyes. I love your body. I love how you talk. I love how you look at me. I love you.
She is mysterious, quiet, and unpredictable.
She walks like an angel.
She dances like a hippie.
Her smile is sweet like honey and strawberries.
She is wild and reckless like Jim Morrison.
With the mind of a day dreamer.
And the heart of a poet.
Her eyes are as dark as the black cat.
And when her black hair sways, it moves like a Raven flying in the moonlight.