Latest Posts by ra--na - Page 9

The sky is blue, so is the ocean, but you haven’t seen blue until you’ve looked into his eyes. After that the colour blue just never looks the same anymore.

9:12 p.m

Waking up and falling asleep used to be an effortless task. I don’t know when it changed but sleep never came but when it did I never wanted to wake up again

4:21 p.m

Rest In Peace, Alan Rickman.

Will we miss you? Always.

One day I heard some guy tell this girl in my class that her gums stuck out too much when she smiled, so she started covering her mouth every time someone cracked a joke or laughed with her. And I knew a boy in my English class who would always get excited over the tiniest of things, then say sorry afterwards. He’d actually apologize for being over-enthusiastic. This was probably because of the weird looks people would give him when he boasted about his favorite books or movies. He actually thought his passions were silly. Another time, I was at my best friend’s house. We were trying on clothes, and I threw a crop top of mine for her to wear. She told me she couldn’t wear it because her belly would stick out, and she wouldn’t want people staring or making rude comments. It was only later I found out about the nights she’d spend with two fingers down her throat. Then a distant friend of mine had this boyfriend who constantly criticized her. He never liked her hair up, so she always wore it to her shoulders. He didn’t like her in skirts or shorts, so she always dressed down. And when he thought her friends were too opinionated, she soon grew distant from me as well. When he eventually left, she had completely lost who she was. And once upon a time I fell in love with a boy who was afraid to cry because his whole life he was told that it made him weak. So day by day he’d let his problems eat away at him until eventually it consumed everything he was. What I’m trying to say is, be careful of your words. These might be small instances, but the biggest issues are usually hidden beneath a million smaller ones. Everyone is struggling in little ways. Be kind.

// Excerpt #88 (via her-minds-a-mess)

the universe has existed for billions of years and by a coincidence we ended up living at the same time. that counts for something.

I like the cold because it makes you feel alive. It’s one of those things that remind you that you’re still capable of feeling things because the last time I felt warm you let the flame die.

(via her-minds-a-mess)

It’s time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter.

Lucius Malfoy (via hogwartsfansite)

Person: why do you care about the planet so much?

Me: Idk why do you like living?

I think it’s important to realize you can miss something, but not want it back

Paulo Coelho (via itcuddles)

Isn’t it strange that we talk least about the things we think about most?

Charles Lindbergh (via quotemadness)

We are so creative that when we have no problems, we invent them.

Augusto Cury, (Brazilian physician, psychiatrist, psychotherapist)

original: “Somos tão criativos que quando não temos problemas, nós os inventamos.”

(via fyp-psychology)

I am the protagonist of my own story. 

4 a.m.

Detour | San Pedro, CA | 2015 

If she writes, don’t date her. A woman who writes will pay attention to the small details, the little moments. She will start to memorize the curves of your shoulders and the crescents of your collarbones, the way your words hopscotch side to side when you’re nervous and melt together when pronouncing her name. She will see everything through the lenses of metaphors, analogies, and comparisons- saying things like how her coffee that morning reminded her of your eyes, or how she heard a song on the radio that reminded her of the first time you told her you loved her. And she’ll write, write, write. That’ll be what you like most about her. Although there will be nights you wake up at 3am to an empty spot on the bed, you’ll know it’s because she’s writing about how beautiful you looked with your eyes closed. Do not date a woman who writes, because she will understand how to read between the lines. She’ll notice the way you lick your lips when you lie and the way your finger twitches when you feel guilty. She would have read enough books to know where this plot is heading, and so when the relationship ends, you’ll be left with nothing while she will at least be left with the cruel inspiration of heartbreak. Those beautiful love poems she used to keep stashed away in your pillowcase will become replaced with toxic words and heartbroken verses. She’ll write about how your mouth began to taste like deceit and your love began to feel like lies. You’ll go from being her cure to being the poison in her veins. She will live on forever as someone who saw the world as colors and details, while you’ll live forever on as just the boy who broke her heart many years ago.

A.F // Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #75 (via her-minds-a-mess)

I am the writer and this is so true.

(via namedrop-natalie)

Fml I’m the writer that does this to girls.

(via yourxchinaxdoll)

Also the writer and I can confirm we do this

(via kmlind4)

Wooo, I’m relatable!!!

(via her-minds-a-mess)

Humans tend to live in fear of the things they can’t control. Falling in love, falling out of love, death. Maybe that’s why I smoke. I smoke so I can finally control something in my life. Maybe I smoke so the only person choosing my murder weapon is me.

excerpt from a book I’ll never write #16 (via @hxmesixk)

©Luca Perrin

Fondazione Prada

{ IF }

If you are the sky, let me fly. If you are the wind, let me in. If you are a bird, soaring upward, I’ll be your cloud, without a doubt. If I am the moon, a white balloon; you’ll be the sea — you mirror me. If you are the rainbow I always follow, I’ll be the sun, your only one.

{ FEARLESS }

I’ve always been careful, all my life. Truth can be painful, a hidden knife. But with you I’m fearless, I’m almost blind. This strange little feeling, it’s hard to find.

So let’s get going, our love is a dare. Some people might voice out, but I do not care. Tomorrow is a distance, not too far away. And I know we’ll get there, one summer’s day.

Why is agony compared to art? For it is not art; the pain is a wreck that does not live up to the idea of wonderful masterpieces, flawless, painted from one’s own personal garden of rosy reds and lilacs. Pained expressions are eyes made of ships whom have flood, hearts sinking like an anchor and hair like sails. Who has the audacity to compare a sinking ship to the gardens and gates of a painting instead of torn devices and broken boards. We are the beauty in destruction my love, adore your crashing waves.

S.P. The Audacity of Gardens  (via stainedpoetry)

Stories never really end…even if the books like to pretend they do. Stories always go on. They don’t end on the last page, any more than they begin on the first page.

Cornelia Funke, Inkspell (via wordsnquotes)

“Well I guess sometimes two people can be right for each other, but the timing doesn’t have to be.” He took a heavy sigh. “That’s such bullshit.” I let out. “That’s just the kind of thing people say when they’re too afraid of messing things up.” I see him about to speak, but I quickly cut him off. “The truth is, timing is never going to be completely right for us or anyone else. But you push through it anyway because you love each other.” “So if you don’t think we’re worth the fight then leave, but I’m telling you right now, you’re worth every risk to me.“

Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #59 (via her-minds-a-mess)