Note to self: crying doesn’t make you weak






Holy shit





"You never know how sick you are until you try to recover." - (via chaosbreedsgeniuses)

(Source: oxygeniuss)

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vintagelove28: Ideal first date?


I don’t think it would be the first date but I always have the most reoccurring fantasy to just rent a pick up truck and drive across the entire country with the person who sets my soul on fire. I picture stopping at a beach, lit solely by the stars in the sky and laying in the field of blankets neatly placed in the truck’s open back. Every single Coldplay song coming out of the speakers, echoing through the atmosphere. The waves dancing along to the delicate instrumentals. Hour long stares into each other’s eyes. In depth conversations, rediscovering absolutely everything within each other we once fell in love with. Slight breeze, allowing us to tuck each other’s hair behind one another’s ears. Waking up with the sunrise. The heat radiating off her smooth, peachy face. Tired eyes that I can kiss awake. New bruises on my neck, inflicted with affection. Body craving the intense act of love-making that occurred the night prior. Nakedness, followed by dives into cold water. How symmetrically both our bodies fit together. Arms draped around each other’s necks. Our lips wishing each other good morning as easily as they wished each other goodnight. She feels better than home does. Natural, salt water infused hair. Drying off and fitting into each other’s borrowed clothing. Blindly picking an all day breakfast place to drive to. 3 eggs, cooked all the way through, hash browns, bacon and a side of fruit. The taste of coffee on her breath. You watch in awe as she eats because every single movement of hers is Goddess-like. You pick up the tab because money is nothing to you when you’re together. You work your ass off to be able to afford these moments. They mean more to you than any pay cheque. You close your eyes and your mind photographs her image, sitting there - her elbow perched against the window sill. You want to live in it forever. She stands up to go to the bathroom and you watch the love of your life walk away - you thank God because it is only momentary - because she’ll walk back up to you, smile, and sit in her warm seat again, minutes later. Her hands smelling of lilac soap. She will look at you like you are magic. Like your face is an art exhibit people pay thousands to see. You will leave just as you came, together. Your next destination completely unknown. Maybe you’ll drive as far as the country, maybe gyou’ll find a forest or an abandoned home. It does not matter because you are accompanied by someone who, to you, is a galaxy. An intrinsic combination of all that is delightful. Every star in the sky is jealous. Yours shines brighter. People know you love her, simply by observing the way you observe her. The way you make note of her habits, even the ones which seem meaningless. Like the way she spends a little extra time making the wings of her eye makeup just right. You leave much more behind in those places than just tire tracks. You leave memories that will turn into stories. Stories that you will remember your entire life time. That you will tell others, without even meaning to. They will slip out of you, sober or drunk. 

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