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Do you know what your problem is? You can’t live with the idea that someone might leave … you’re so goddamned scared of the idea that someone might dump you that your whole fugging life is built around not getting left behind. Well, it doesn’t work, kafir. It just - it’s not just dumb, it’s ineffective. Because then you’re not being a good friend or a good boyfriend or whatever, because you’re only thinking they-might-not-like-me-they-might-not-like-me, and guess what? When you act like that, no one likes you. John Green, An Abundance of Katherines
(via perfect)
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Typewriter Series #758 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want to be your fanciest shoes and I want to be the way they actually hurt so you cannot wait to take them off.  I want to be the sound of fingernails begin clipped in bathroom  walls when the clock is rounding 12 and searching for single digits again.  I want to be secretly annoyed you never clean them up.  I want lazy Sundays and busy Saturdays and the freedom Friday brings and the apprehension of a Thursday at 2:45 pm and the quite moments reading on a Wednesday when it snows and a Tuesday where we rent the best new movies and a Monday filled with lethargy.  I want the weeks and the months of you but I want the hours and the seconds more. I want the tiny ticks between a second and I want whatever lives between those. I want to be all the fairytales we tell all the kids we ever meet and the way we are actually talking about ourselves.  I want the Christmas lights and the glow in your eyes and the sound of paper crinkling and the little bits of glitter dust left after tying all the bows.  I want the dancing.  All the dancing in all the places to all the songs and the shuffling of two sets of feet that have waited a lifetime to orbit each other.  I want the road and the sky and the plane and the car and the exhaustion and the elation and the sea and the mountains high.  I want the fever you chill and the cold you soothe and the drive to the hospital when the room must be of an emergency variety.  I want the humming and I want the soft lullaby of your sleeping next to me.  I want to be the one to remind you of the strength you’ve always been made of and I want to be the one to hold you when adrenaline is all that remains when that strength runs out.  I want to be the reminder that you don’t ever need a reminder that you are made of wild things and they frolic inside you without a single thought to who may be watching or what thoughts might be filling their heads.  I want to be the eyes that widen on your face as you realize your worth.  I want to be the roots of you and the soil they love the taste of.
Part Four.
I told you you’d get tired of me first. (via guy)
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antoine cordet
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a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.

a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.

her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.

when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.

so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.

sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.

her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.

taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.

if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.

kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.

10 Body Parts || izztstei  (via flannel)
1. if you don’t like your name don’t use it
2. scream at the sky, whisper secrets to the ocean, hold hands with clouds. the world is yours if you want it to be
3. do things that make you nervous and let the feeling consume you until you feel scared and alive and want to throw up
4. don’t worry about falling in love
5. pick flowers whenever you see them and leave them wherever you go
6. kiss all the things that make you happy and all the things that make you sad, kiss everything that makes you feel anything
7. weave stars into your clothes and always remember that you came from them and will go back to them again someday
8. never empty your pockets
9. light dead flowers on fire when you’re feeling sad, let their smell fill your lungs and make you forget about life
10. diet coca cola will make your head spin and your throat burn, drink it when you’re feeling like things are going to get bad
11. if a boy with pretty eyes asks you who you are, show him your scars and your freckles and your bruises and let him know that you are alive
12. the best people have electricity running through their veins and around their hearts, let them shock you
13. forget how old you are, it does not matter
14. if something or someone makes you want to run then do it, run until your legs go numb and your heart is about to explode and you forget how to breathe
15. when the world is asleep make the night your friend and you will become invincible
16. get lost in another city and don’t ask for directions
17. cry if you want to, but try not to drown in your tears
18. do not be afraid of the sight of blood or the sound of bones snapping or the smell of hospital beds
19. race the moon while you’re driving until you’re going faster than the speed of light
20. never sit still how to not understand life and be okay with it, alina guevara  (via mooninlibra)


next time a stranger tells you that youre familiar and youve met before they just cant remember where just clear your throat and tell them do you watch porn?