Vladimir Nabokov, letter to his wife Véra, Letters to Véra (ed. Brian Boyd & trans. Olga Voronin)
[Text ID: “I love you. Without end.”]
(via soulmvtes)
lauren
22
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“You’re soft, like the sea, and yet, I get the feeling you’d devour me.”
(via soulmvtes)
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at least there is doing weird art projects on ur bedroom floor. at least there is that
(via nadiea)
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literally why can i never just fucking sleep through the night like a normal person
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have a little poem with your morning coffee and maybe everything will be okay
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you can find homoerotic subtext in anything if you believe in yourself
(via aslancallenreese)
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sometimes i forget how many times i’ve picked myself off the floor, how many times i’ve washed away smudgy makeup and put myself to bed. how many times i’ve said no to something unhealthy. said yes to something good. how many times i’ve treated myself with kindness and patience. i forget how many times i’ve tended to wounds and made peace with my own anger. if i was taking care of a body that was not my own, i’d believe i was doing everything i could. so here’s to remembering that i’m doing the best i can.
(via million-pieces)
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the phrases “kill myself” “kill yourself” “let’s kill ourselves” are sacred because brands cannot use them. holy in the literal sense
(via bauliya)
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I fucking love repetitive lines that change meaning over a piece of writing yes slay
(via beaulesbian)
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do NOT offer me a big spoon if you see me with a small one. i know what im fuckin doing
can i offer a smaller spoon?
absolutely! finally, someone with some sense around here
(via roxyandelsewhere)
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