THEMES THAT YOU LIKE
anniegreenyo.
We have to accept our decisions the next day. No regrets, only lessons learned. Given ample opportunity, we must take advantage of our breath given whether in regards to what our system consumes from the environment, or as beautiful discoveries to our ears. I encourage my hope to eliminate the definition of normal because it doesn't exist. You're an individual; Find your passion, tackle life to the extreme.

uptional:

“Maybe we’ll meet again, when we are slightly older and our minds less hectic, and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me. But right now, I am chaos to your thoughts and you are poison to my heart.”

— (via bl-ossomed)

(via uptional)


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danger:

“I think part of the reason people take photos is because they’re afraid that moment will never happen again.”

— (via head-circus)

(via danger)


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29. October 2018

I shouldn’t feel sad. I shouldn’t have any remorse for someone who doesn’t appreciate the caring, and loving qualities I have. And yet, I’m crying in my bed like the pathetic victim of heartbreak that I am. 

Scrolling through past photos looking for silly pictures of my roommate, I stumbled upon a significant photo that sent me into this tailspin. A simple dahlia. One stem, deep purple and white. The first flower I had ever been given by a man of interest. I snuck a photo of it against the coffee shop’s wooden table when he excused himself to the restroom that day. 

Leading up to me receiving this flower, I was quite worried. All throughout 2017, I had the misfortune of the “Three Date Curse”. Every month, I found myself with a new guy. Either I or the guy would choose to stop seeing each other and I’d move on to the next. 

This flower wasn’t just a lovely sentiment, but a symbol of him breaking the curse. I remember him running upstairs where I was sitting, and thrusting the flower onto the table, nervous as hell. All feelings of rejection, confusion and concern were whisked away by his sheer gesture of kindness. 

Fast forward a year, and I’m lying here, typing through blurry vision, wishing things were the way they once were. But they’re not. And it’s been four months since we ended things. I need to move on, but somehow I know reliving some of the best few months of my life without him are going to be torture. 


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