I wonder how many stranger’s stories we make it into? You know, maybe someone saw you in passing and told their friends about how pretty the girl in the lavender sweater was. Or maybe they overheard you say a joke and repeated it to their friend, confessing that they heard it from some guy at the store. 

I think about this all the time

If you’re under 30 and in a relationship right now, and you’re not head over heels, get out. You are way too young to be wasting your time with someone who doesn’t make you really happy to be with them every day. There’s nothing sadder than watching 23-year-olds settle.
There are plenty of ways to kill yourself, stick a gun to the back of your throat, fall asleep in the garage with the car on, jump into a river and let the rock in your chest where your heart used to be drag you to the bottom, smoke too many cigarettes, bleed yourself dry. I think the most effective way is kissing someone who’s name you will never be able to say without shaking.
(via 969ft)
I’m probably going to forget
your name for the next ten years.
I’m going to fall in love again
and I’m going to marry someone
a lot like you without even realizing it
and I’m going to have his daughter.
She’s going to have eyes like galaxies,
a smile like summer,
and hands not big enough
to catch all the pain
she is trying to heal
and we both know it will hurt.
I know one day,
she’ll walk through the door
like shattered glass and
a heart like empty streets,
vacant parking lots
and cities with no porch lights
and for the first time in ten years,
I will remember you.
I’ll tell her your name
and only then will she understand
that love doesn’t always stay
that maybe love shouldn’t.
She’s going to learn
to love what her mother never did,
She’s going to love herself enough
to wash that blood stained shirt
he left behind on our front porch,
and although she’ll wind up with bloody knees
and scratches on her hands from loving too much,
she’s going to wear rainboots
and let the rain wash away everything he’s left behind,
grow flowers from the cracks in the sidewalk
and her favorite color will be grey,
because that’s love,
not black,
not white,
but grey.
Dear Ex Lover, I want you to meet my daughter // Abagail Pacheco (via thewordsyouneverunderstood)

Reblog everytime because its just so beautiful

(via vitasbrevisarslonga)