A house full of scraps of poems, unused ideas. A nest of thoughts, the wood chips from an industrious carpenter of the word. Their abundance, like froth, around my existence, excess, boiling over. I don’t know why I sentenced this or that poem to non-being, to silence; why I wrote down this, but not that thought. All froth.
― Anna Kamienska, from Industrious Amazement: A Notebook (via violentwavesofemotion)

All my love and prayers are going out to my castmate Wyatt tonight  It isn’t fair for such a scary thing to happen to someone so kind and talented but I know he is fighting as hard as he can to get through this and he will beat the odds.

lastgreattimewhore:

if lucifer needs someones consent to enter their body then so do you

I must have flowers, always, and always.
― Claude Monet (via theflowershop)

decibelsandpaperbacks:

This week on Tumblr:

It’s a metaphor. You’re a metaphor. I’m a metaphor. Your keybord is a metaphor. Everything is a metaphor. The universe is turning into one giant metaphor on a molecular scale. Run. It’s too late.

fuck-benedict-cumberbatch:

hey friend. one day ur gonna be happy. one day ur gonna be sitting w someone u love in ur favourite place in the world and ur gonna think “wow. life is p great” and everything will be okay. but u gotta make it til then okay? just hang in there. u’ll be okay.

  • Me: seriously though its time to pull my shit together
  • Me *7 months later: seriously though its time to pull my shit together
  • Had a nice run, it felt relatively easy compared to the last two which must mean my endurance is getting better. I am still sad that my workout routine got interrupted by play week because it meant I basically had to start over. I’m glad I didn’t give up altogether though.

    (Also, side note, is it too much to ask of males in trucks not to drive slowly behind me on a rural wooded road with few houses on it? It wasn’t until I made a point of dramatically turning my head that he sped up and drove past me. Made me kind of uncomfortable and it’s irritating that I can’t enjoy a run by myself because I’m worried about fucking guys being creepy.)