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I think by the time you realize you’ve lost yourself, it is already too late to stop it from happening. That’s how it feels for me, anyway. I knew the ‘old’ me was slipping away, but one day I woke up and didn’t recognize the person I turned into, nor could I remember who I used to be. Such is life, I suppose.

"But, like ivy, we grow where there is room for us. She seemed to have room for me; she never turned away in the pauses that allow for turning away. She never inquired, but she never recoiled, either. This is a quality that Iook for in a person, not recoiling. Some people need a red carpet rolled out in front of them in order to walk forward into friendship. They can’t see the tiny outstretched hands all around them, everywhere, like leaves on tree."

— Miranda July (via cheeruplisa)

"Unhappy memories are persistent. They’re specific, and it’s the details that refuse to leave us alone. Though a happy memory may stay with you just as long as one that makes you miserable, what you remember softens over time. What you recall is simply that you were happy, not necessarily the individual moments that brought about your joy. But the memory of something painful does just the opposite. It retains its original shape, all bony fingers and pointy elbows. Every time it returns, you get a quick poke in the eye or jab in the stomach. The memory of being unhappy has the power to hurt us long after the fact. We feel the injury anew each and every time we think of it."

— Cameron Dokey (via vvolare)

(Source: danseurs)

"All it takes is a familiar laugh, a recognizable word and you are transported to who knows where. You are a confused paleontologist now, scrambling to make sense of things left behind, trying to reunite the right dinosaur with the right bones. The scar from his burst appendix goes here, the part of his leg that doesn’t grow hair belongs there, I think this is his morning breath but maybe it belongs to someone who came before him; some other ghost, some other relic. His taste is an aftertaste now, his crow’s feet a souvenir with no place to call home. That’s what moving on is like."

— What Moving On Is Like | Thought Catalog (via 52hearts)

"If all my mistakes
led me to you, maybe they
aren’t mistakes, at all."

— Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

"Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand."

— “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams (via julie911)

I am so tired of my mother only calling when she needs something from me, then falling off the face of the earth for weeks or months until she needs something else.

"She was like an empty room after everyone’s left. Something incredibly important had disappeared from her for good. Leaving behind not life but its absence. Not the warmth of something alive but the silence of memory."

— Sputnik Sweetheart (Haruki Murakami)

(Source: 55thand3rd)

leilockheart:

Found on - LINK

(Source: leilockheart)