Everything & Nothing




A nineteen-year old rogue who cries, loves, laughs, writes, reads, and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives and lives...                     *PS: This blog is formerly strangerthanchelsea        
❝This is for the ache in your chest.
The one you only look at
when everyone else is sleeping.
For shaking hands in the dark
when you take them to your ribcage
and pry it open, looking for the soft parts.
This is for how home stopped feeling like home
and started feeling like closed doors
and too many walls.
For how, sometimes, you look at the horizon
and think that if you started running now
you would never be able to make yourself stop.
I cannot be your strong northern wind and
I cannot stop the darkness when it finds you.
But I will hold your weary hands
and sit with you through the storm.
I am no wiseman;
I have no sagely words of advice.
But I will curl up beside you
and ache with you.
I will soak up your tears in the hem of my shirt.
I will be there, behind you, to help you keep balance
until your legs are strong enough
that you can stand all on your own.
I cannot fight your demons,
but I can kiss them
when you are too afraid to.
I can love you
when you think you don’t deserve it.
I can open my door
when you start to feel
like every way is closed to you.
I can kiss you goodnight.
I can kiss you.
I can kiss you.❞
(This Is For You, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore))


snorlaxatives:

*sits down next to you and sympathetically looks into your eyes* i don’t care

(Source: snorlaxatives)


bookmania:

"Twenty-four hours of air traffic." | via Instagram @thebookmania

sweetendings:

I keep questioning whether it’s my favorite color. But every time I look out onto the beach and see the different shades of blue from water to sky I question why I ever questioned it at all. 

sweetendings:

I keep questioning whether it’s my favorite color. But every time I look out onto the beach and see the different shades of blue from water to sky I question why I ever questioned it at all. 


Miles To Go by CC

Miles To Go by CC


Maybe flowers will never grow on our fists. Maybe we will never sing the correct words. Maybe our pens will bleed dry. Maybe the jokes will grow old. Maybe the ocean will swallow us all whole. Maybe the sun will burst. 

Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow.

But for now, at least for now, in this glorious rainy night,

I hope in my heart of hearts that we will last until we are both brave enough to take our coffee black without flinching. 

I will be with you until that day and beyond. 



❝Am I a good person? Deep down, do I even really want to be a good person, or do I only want to seem like a good person so that people (including myself) will approve of me? Is there a difference?❞
(David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster and Other Essays
(via quoted-books))


hartbigcanon:

I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck” 



darksilenceinsuburbia:

Franck Bohbot

Chinatown

In this series Franck Bohbot embraces the absence of typical daytime noise, deliveries, lively streets, and tourist visits on the streets of New York City’s Chinatown.
Half-way between poetry and science fiction-like movie sets, through this nocturnal series with New York City as the sole backdrop, he invites us to discover an empty, motionless neighborhood devoid of its inhabitants. With his camera by his side, some images were shot instinctively while others are more contemplative. The result is an enigmatic voyage that creates a pictorial and fantasy-like universe in the thick of night.

Via


softshinythings:

Editors | Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors

we’ve all been changed from what we were
our broken parts smashed off the floor


deadghosty:

winter solstice & summer solstice


(Source: imagesbyromi)


❝All I know is that I’ve wasted all these years looking for something, a sort of trophy I’d get only if I really, really did enough to deserve it. But I don’t want it anymore, I want something else now, something warm and sheltering, something I can turn to, regardless of what I do, regardless of who I become. Something that will just be there, always, like tomorrow’s sky.❞
(Kazuo Ishiguro,
When We Were Orphans (via e-luce-fu))