February 2012
4 tags
Feb 25th
3,591 notes
5 tags
whywebrokeupproject: I deserve better and you don’t deserve me
Feb 25th
6 notes
5 tags
Feb 25th
97,980 notes
6 tags
Feb 25th
222 notes
5 tags
“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely...”
– Charles Bukowski 
Feb 25th
254 notes
3 tags
Feb 25th
74 notes
2 tags
Feb 25th
5,605 notes
4 tags
Feb 25th
3,738 notes
3 tags
Feb 25th
612 notes
6 tags
Feb 25th
1,928 notes
2 tags
Feb 25th
3,860 notes
3 tags
Feb 25th
235 notes
4 tags
Feb 25th
538 notes
4 tags
Feb 25th
4 notes
7 tags
Feb 25th
2,745 notes
3 tags
Feb 25th
45,014 notes
6 tags
Feb 25th
66 notes
5 tags
Feb 25th
9,772 notes
7 tags
Feb 25th
22,459 notes
7 tags
Feb 25th
5,967 notes
5 tags
Feb 25th
62 notes
10 tags
Feb 25th
2,361 notes
7 tags
Feb 25th
2,691 notes
5 tags
Feb 25th
34 notes
1 tag
Feb 25th
2,163 notes
6 tags
Feb 25th
43 notes
5 tags
Feb 25th
22,677 notes
4 tags
Feb 25th
1,343 notes
4 tags
Feb 25th
3,414 notes
5 tags
phenora: The good thing about books is that they got no fucking commercials.
Feb 25th
4 notes
7 tags
Feb 25th
433 notes
5 tags
“Write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”
– Benjamin Franklin 
Feb 25th
316 notes
9 tags
Feb 24th
44,177 notes
4 tags
Feb 24th
11,390 notes
8 tags
“Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about...
Feb 24th
19 notes
10 tags
Feb 24th
36 notes
5 tags
Feb 24th
1,191 notes
3 tags
Feb 24th
1,113 notes
8 tags
“You guys wanna talk about Bitches? Just Kidding, they’re called Women”
– Lily Erikson, How I Met Your Mother
Feb 24th
5 notes
3 tags
Feb 24th
30,913 notes
3 tags
Feb 24th
214 notes
6 tags
Feb 24th
66 notes
6 tags
Kissing in Vietnamese
My grandmother kisses as if bombs are bursting in the backyard, where mint and jasmine lace their perfumes through the kitchen window, as if somewhere, a body is falling apart and flames are making their way back through the vessels in a young boy’s thigh, as if to walk out the door your torso would dance with exit wounds. Ocean Vuong
Feb 24th
276 notes
6 tags
Feb 24th
21 notes
6 tags
Feb 24th
225 notes
4 tags
Feb 24th
40 notes
3 tags
Feb 24th
12 notes
5 tags
Feb 24th
26 notes
4 tags
“I write for the same reason I breathe — because if I didn’t, I would die.”
–  Isaac Asimov 
Feb 24th
142 notes
4 tags
Feb 24th
683 notes