evaporation
precipitation

if you broke down my brain into a million segments this would be it or something similar anyways

chlenne:

✫

10:04 am  22,939 notes

“Travel. Don’t book a hotel. Don’t have an agenda. Just pick a place, buy a ticket, and go. It will never be easier then it is right now.”

— (via her0inchic)

(Source: lifestyleoftheunemployed, via forestling)

3:50 pm  2,762 notes

4:42 pm  3 notes


“Reds” by Arthur Elgort for Vogue US September 1990

11:03 am  2,355 notes

11:03 am  8 notes

“You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts. You have to pay your electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to give it all you got. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth. But that’s all.”

— Cheryl Strayed (via poco-cocoa)

(via flyingonthesebrokenwings)

10:53 am  3,888 notes

lesfoudres:

Sad Girls ll by Rachel Levit on Flickr.

10:39 am  1,627 notes

12:00 pm  1,079 notes

atavus:

Carolyn Krieg - Aphrodesia, 2003

12:00 pm  426 notes

burning in hell
this piece of me fits in nowhere
as other people find things
to do
with their time
places to go
with one another
things to say
to each other.

I am
burning in hell
some place north of Mexico.
flowers don’t grow here.

I am not like
other people
other people are like
other people.

they are all alike:
joining
grouping
huddling
they are both
gleeful and content
and i am
burning in hell.

my heart is a thousand years old
I am not like
other people.
I’d die on their picnic grounds
smothered by their flags
slugged by their songs
unloved by their soldiers
gored by their humor
murdered by their concern.

I am not like
other people.
I am
burning in hell.

the hell of
myself.

Displaced, Charles Bukowski (via thefilthyyouth)

(via leukocytes)

8:48 pm  95 notes

s.t.