The Latest

My grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a thorn.
Louis Adamic (via ambigious)
Sep 26, 2014 / 2 notes

There were days when it looked like love,
especially if you turned down the volume.
But even if you didn’t.

Bus rides asleep on each other’s
shoulders, sharing an ear-bud
plugged into a song
as if sharing a secret.

Afternoons where we stayed in
our pajamas and played video games
after he bought us twin bodega sandwiches
and remembered mine without the meat.

And while I look back
on the memories with equal, if not more
repulsion, I know that I wasn’t an idiot
to stay. That my heart invented
its own verb which meant To Love
The Dog Who Licks The Scar It Gave You.

On a dirty bar couch on Valentine’s Day
he said I would fight with you every morning
if it meant I could kiss you at night and at the time
it didn’t sound like the Codependent National Anthem
or a vending machine where you put in fury
and get out passion

or even like the things I read now
in pamphlets—the ones I thrust upon other women
like my own righteous gospel—

it sounded like the sweetest thing
he’d ever said to me. A poem
I could fold real small and carry
around in my locket, not noticing, for months
how it also kind of

Megan Falley, “The Balance” (via fleurishes)

(via nogreatillusion)

Sep 20, 2014 / 1,454 notes
Sep 20, 2014 / 273 notes

(via jolenemaria)

I wish somebody had told me that loving people, knowing how to love those people, and those people loving you back were three entirely different things.
Della Hicks-Wilson  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

Sep 20, 2014 / 8,813 notes
Sep 20, 2014 / 3,158 notes

(via irrevokable)

Hang in there. It is astonishing how short a time it can take for very wonderful things to happen.
Frances Hodgson Burnett  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

Sep 18, 2014 / 7,604 notes
I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. Probably not even real.
 Mark Z. Danielewski (via bornreadygeneration)

(via coffeeslut)

Sep 18, 2014 / 69 notes
I let it go. It’s like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.
Joanne Harris, Five Quarters of the Orange (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

Sep 11, 2014 / 17,357 notes
Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.
Anne Lamott (via brklyn)

(via nomnomnamaste)

Sep 6, 2014 / 369 notes
I get it now; I didn’t get it then. That life is about losing and about doing it as gracefully as possible…and enjoying everything in between.
Mia Farrow  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

Sep 6, 2014 / 15,640 notes