1 "Not much time left now; not much more to endure. Just a few more short weeks, she tells herself, just a few more weeks to freedom. She squares her shoulders and gathers up her things to work, pen poised above paper just so, textbooks splayed open to the appropriate pages. She purses her lips in concentration, telling herself that she needs to focus, she needs to focus so she can get this done and get on with her life. The words in front of her eyes blur into meaningless squiggles across white paper, her pen refusing to flow across the page to make sentences of meaning and insight and analysis. Her head hurts, a dull throb in her temples that refuses to go away.
She sighs and throws her study materials away, cradling her head in her hands. When did it get so hard, she wonders, when did it get so hard to do this? When did her motivation leave her? When did she stop caring? She sighs and frowns at her books. After a moment, she reaches over and picks them up again, setting herself to work.
Not much longer now, she tells herself. You can do this, you can do this." — by dream a little bigger, darling

68 "She was wearing a pair of my pajamas with the sleeves rolled up. When she laughed I wanted her again. A minute later she asked me if I loved her. I told her it didn’t mean anything but that I didn’t think so. She looked sad. But as we were fixing lunch, and for no apparent reason, she laughed in such a way that I kissed her." — Albert Camus (via ophidiophobic)

14550 "I really don’t know what ‘I love you’ means. I think it means ‘Don’t leave me here alone.’" — Neil Gaiman (via rosablonde)

0 "I want to know how many scars you have and memorize the shape of your tongue. I want to climb the curve of your lower back and count your vertebrae, your ribs, your fingers, your goose bumps. I want you, entire." — by jarrodis

0 "Look what you’ve done, the people you’ve stepped on, the cities you’ve carelessly destroyed. Look around you for once; open your eyes. Look at how with each passing day it’s something new, something fresh to snap in half and toss aside as nothing. How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? How many tears have been shed in your name? Does it make you feel proud to feel so tall? Does it make you feel powerful?
This isn’t about me. It’s never been about me. It’s about you. You hurt. You smile and joke and laugh like everything is meaningless, slyly gaining the upper hand in every situation while maintaining your innocent veneer, and you hurt, without preamble, without guilt. Is it really worth it to ruin so much to gain so little? Tell me, do you even feel?" — by dream a little bigger, darling

4240 "It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you." — Frederic Chopin (via quote-book)

0 "What do you want?”. That was years ago, but I can still hear your voice ringing in my ears, the steady thump-thump of my heart as you looked at me with such intensity, such conviction, so sure of everything you were, are, will always be. And to this day, I still don’t have an answer for you. I don’t know, might not ever know, because perhaps all I am is a lost soul, doomed to drift helplessly through time until the last grains of salt in the hourglass of my life fall. You would be disappointed in me, I know. You would frown and your eyes would narrow, and you would ask me again, “What do you want? Why did you come here?”. And you would scream and shout and threaten to kill me and still I would smile and shake my head, “I don’t know.”.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you." — by dream a little bigger, darling