(Source: opaletta, via tristesolitude)
The Write Life
I travel, I study, I live. And I am always writing.
(via timetopretenddx)
(Source: enchantedswift13, via yourekeepingmealive)
(via yourekeepingmealive)
Stop comparing where you’re at with where everyone else is. It doesn’t move you farther ahead, improve your situation, or help you find peace. It just feeds your shame, fuels your feelings of inadequacy, and ultimately, it keeps you stuck. The reality is that there is no one correct path in life. Everyone has their own unique journey. A path that’s right for someone else won’t necessarily be a path that’s right for you. And that’s okay. Your journey isn’t right or wrong, or good or bad. It’s just different. Your life isn’t meant to look like anyone else’s because you aren’t like anyone else. You’re a person all your own with a unique set of goals, obstacles, dreams, and needs. So stop comparing, and start living. You may not have ended up where you intended to go. But trust, for once, that you have ended up where you needed to be. Trust that you are in the right place at the right time. Trust that your life is enough. Trust that you are enough.
(Source: internal-acceptance-movement, via monkeyknifefight)
To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.
(Source: simplyloganblogged, via breadprincess)
(via the-beauty-of-words-blog)
how could you not reblog this.
Hardcore judging you if you don’t reblog this.
This is my favorite tattoo picture.
Heartbreaking and honorable
(Source: fakee-bitchess, via yourekeepingmealive)
you’ve become so
damaged, that when
someone wants to
give you, what you
deserve
you have no idea,
how to respond.
(Source: itsonlyyforever, via emilysboys)
I dreamed of your lips
and the taste they would carry
before I kissed them.
(via tylerknott)
Bibliolexicon, A Passion for Books (x)
(Source: sophistae, via calantheandthenightingale)
Palladian Bridge, Prior Park, Bath (by Roger Nichol)
Esslingen, Germany (by roba66)
“Writing is for me like walking down the landscape of the self. You find false trails, roads closed for repairs, impregnable fortresses, scouts, armies of memory, and impossible cartography.”
August Wilson
(via browndresswithwhitedots)
