If you were to press your heart close up against somebody else’s heart eventually your hearts will start beating at the same time. And two little babies in an incubator, their hearts will beat at the same time. Love that. So if you have somebody in your life that is prone to anxiety, like myself, and if you happen to be a calm person, you could come up and hug me heart to heart and my heart hopefully would slow to yours. And I just love that idea. Or maybe yours would speed up to mine. But either way, we’ll be there together.
Andrea Gibson  (via thatkindofwoman)
thatkindofwoman:

I want crazy hair. 
Young writers should read books past bedtime and write things down in notebooks when they are supposed to be doing something else.
Lemony Snicket (via autumn-fairy)


Bright Young Things (2003)

latenightseth:

Just four cool guys hanging out backstage. 
daydreamsandfelicity:

They never see it coming and then they end up married!
Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

myswagisnice:

I love my mom.

image

I am risking nothing

>>

1. Lay on the floor of your shower until you can breathe again. Water will always love to love your skin.

2. Start writing with the intention of filling up one page. Write until your pen stops working.

3. Reread a book that once made you cry. Learn something new on every page. Notice how different chapters make you sad. Notice how the book didn’t change and grow; you did.

4. Sleep with your windows open. You can hear both the rain and boys drunkenly singing Frank Sinatra on their deck. Both are equally good.

5. Don’t forget that honey will always taste sweet, but the best way to eat it is off your fingers, laughing.

6. Remember that, sometimes, getting out of bed is enough.


 For unhappy girls who like sitting in the sun (h.f.j.)
My apartment is not a place for sensuality; it’s a place for repressed sexuality, okay? It’s a place where you order Chinese food, you cuddle and then you fall asleep, too full to have sex.
Dr. Mindy Lahiri from The Mindy Project (via poetwritinginprose)
elizabeths-curves:

Paris in the rain is the most beautiful sight ever 
Who taught me to suck in my stomach,
or my cheeks?
Who told me to stand with my legs apart
and my hips thrust back
to create the illusion of a gap
between my thighs?
Who made me believe that the most beautiful part of me
is my negative space?

Negative Space (via elliesigh)