sproutlett:

i am a different person than who i was last year. my hair is longer and i cry less and i am stronger. i am a different person than who i was six months ago. i am free and different and am embracing change. i am a different person than who i was a month ago. i sit in the sunlight without worry and i don’t let things stick and i look up and smile. i am a different person than who i was last week. i explore more and look at the sky and laugh more. i am a different person than who i was yesterday. i let go and breathe. i am whole.

fromdarzaitoleeza:

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Franz Kafka, the metamorphosis / Jane Austen

lifeinpoetry:

Sometimes, I cry so hard I can feel it in my ribs. / I feel like the real me is backed into a corner inside me

Ama Asantewa Diaka, from “Saturday Evening WhatsApp Message,” Woman, Eat Me Whole

zegalba:

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Devils Horns sunrise during a partial eclipse (2019) located: Al Wakrah, Qatar

quotemadness:

“Give people time. Give people space. Don’t beg anyone to stay. Let them roam. What’s meant for you will always be yours.”

— Reyna Biddy

mysticalzenith:

Self love pills #1:

The love that you are looking for, the soul mate, the dream relationship that you want so much exists within you. Actually, all this time you have been looking for yourself… You are the love of your life.

theambitiouswoman:

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quotemadness:

“Sometimes we need someone to simply be there. Not to fix anything, or to do anything in particular - but just to let us feel that we are cared for and supported.”

— Unknown

quotefeeling:

“To have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy.”

Unknown

free-my-mindd:

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free-my-mindd:

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pika-memes:

emotions aren’t masculine or feminine. they’re human. normalize them.

destinyauz:

ruhlare:

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I needed this post

meanwhilepoetry:

If I could beg one thing of my childhood, it would be this: please stay a while longer. One last game. One last song. One last time playing pretend in the woods, where you can be anything you want to be. One last piece of soft hope before you become a memory that grows hazy year by year.

- Nikita Gill, If