“Todo tiene una razón y tarde o temprano todo toma su lugar, todo toma color, todo en esta vida se ordena y después de haber fallado tanto, a veces inesperadamente, cuando te encuentras en lo más bajo, viene la victoria y es ahí donde te das cuenta que la felicidad no sabría a nada si el camino no hubiera sido difícil.”—Espero en un futuro poder decir eso. Eu (via pescandomariposas)
u know what the worst thing about being a girl is… is when another girl asks u for a hair tie, but its ur last one, but u can’t say u don’t have one because she knows its on ur wrist, so u give it to her, and then she says “oh i’ll give it back!” knowing damn well she won’t, and u sit there sad because now you have to go buy another pack of hair ties that u know ur gonna lose by the end of the month
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”—Gilda Radner (via observando)
Okay… That’s it… I think I’m going to set this as my alarm on my phone so I can feel like I’m waking up in heaven on a daily basis.
There’s just something about children’s choirs.
There’s just something about this song
Okay, let me tell you a thing about this song. My mother is a nurse in the NICU with small premature babies. and she had one baby that was born addicted to 5 different drugs. Needless to say, the poor baby had to suffer through intense withdrawals, and my mom discovered that this song was incredibly soothing for the baby while he went through all of his pain. She would play this during his rougher patches, and it would calm him down. So yes, there is something about this song.
I saw my face today
And it looked older,
Without the warmth of wisdom
Or the softness
Born of pain and waiting.
The dreams were gone from my eyes,
Hope lost in hollowness
On my cheeks,
A finger of death
Pulling at my jaws.
So I did my push-ups
And wondered if I’d ever find you,
To see my face
With friendlier eyes than mine.
“I’m not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. I’ve seen a chunk of the universe, true, but there’s still so much more to see. I doubt I’ll ever cure this wanderlust, and I’m content with dedicating my life to failing to sate it… He’s never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.”—Ann Aguirre, Grimspace (via observando)