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Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes you cannot even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home,
and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to your last two percent, but
nothing is infinite,
not even loss.
You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.
    Finn Butler 

tat-art:

politics-war:


A man is crying while he flips through a family album he found in the rubbles of his old house.

Sichuan earthquake (2008)
A region of chaos and moonlight. She liked it there.
    Anaïs Nin  

Backstage at Thakoon S/S 2008

Why do you love me? and a stark naked pause. I looked away. I didn’t know whether to begin with "because you are…" or "because you make me feel like…" Silence. I didn’t know. No possible response ever stood a verbal chance. Too predictable, right? You masterfully changed the subject. Wordlessness. "Because you quicken my heart. Because you do. Because you are."
    All These Things You Wish You’d Say

It makes me so frustrated when I see people put down or brush off other people’s sadness or getting annoyed they are upset over something trivial, specifically if they are quite young. You need to understand when a young person is sad over something trivial, that trivial thing is probably the worst thing that has happened to them in their short lives.

People get tired of your sadness
    AnoukG
I’m lonely. What kind of loneliness? Every kind. I feel disconnected. Abandoned. As always. Repetition. So what, my love? So what? At first, I just wanted to run away. Now I have no where else to run to, nothing to run from. I don’t belong anywhere, I don’t want to go anywhere, I just want to be happy.
    Daul Kim 

mylifeasqueenb:

girls all go to the bathroom together because that’s where we rap battle

labsinthe:

Figures de Proue” photographed by David Sims for Vogue Paris 2013

You are a little soul carrying around a corpse.
    Epictetus
Even before you touched me,
I belonged to you; all you had to do
was look at me.
    Louise Glück, from “The Burning Heart