Wherever I Go

and we go wherever life takes us. we follow our footsteps that haven't been made yet.

Sometimes the cashier says “did you find everything you were looking for?,” or the doorman says “have a good night,” or a stranger’s eyes momentarily meet mine as we both scan a subway car for an appropriate place to look, and I want to say I AM SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, PLEASE LOVE ME AGAIN.

You remember too much,

my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that?

And I said,

Where do I put it down?

Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay” (via vrban)

(via langleav)

His hands were gently pulling mine from his shoulders and I was kissing him, kissing him, but he had stopped kissing back.

Lang Leav (via langleav)


Sunbathing in the French Riviera (via Entouriste)


Sunbathing in the French Riviera (via Entouriste)

(via la-uren)

Things never stay the same. It’s called entropy.

Royal Pains

I think since the beginning I desired to be half of a whole, that I forgot about everything that I am already composed of.

If we lived in a world where you could say “I love you” to other people, but you couldn’t hear anyone say it to you, I wonder how many people would say it.

You said that we are young and that this is nothing serious. Yes, we are young. I am young and I want to be completely in enamored with someone I barely know. I want to go from zero to sixty in 2 weeks all over again because taking it slow is for old people. I want to recklessly open myself up to you because jumping your whole body in at once is the only way you’ll ever get into the ocean. I want to fly off precipices with my only assurance being your words that you love me after 2 months. I want to be a goddamn child in your arms. We are young, but we will never be as seriously in love as we are now with the world at our feet. 

I decided not to play the game
Of who will text first
Because you always win
And I’m just the worst

I used to think I could and I would move the world for you. Now I know that I can’t and I won’t, and I think that’s where some of the magic is lost.


Thanks, James Franco.

(via ankitasplace)

We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.

Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story (via larmoyante)

(via ankitasplace)