I automatically assume people won’t like me, so I don’t talk to them unless they approach me first. I can’t become a part of a crowd because I can’t get past that feeling that I don’t belong.

Stephanie Kuehnert, Ballads of Suburbia (via larmoyante)

Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.

“The God of Small Things” by Arundhati Roy (via kari-shma)

(via quote-book)

(via quote-book)

Nothing to do, nowhere to be, a simple little kind of free. Nothing to do, no one but me, that is all I need.

John Mayer (Perfectly Lonely)

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

Jane Austen (via quote-book)

naturallyfanatical:

simplychinaa:

fvckchanelx:

uhmmyeahh:

sexdrugsbeyonce:

omfg she sounds just like Bey.

Shit

lmfaoooo!

I hope beyonce see’s this one day lmfaaaaaaaaoo!~

lmfaoooo I’m crying her face expressions are perfect

i can’t stand you for this, please get off my screen! you made me cry from laughter! i love it.

LOL!

(via chelseacuenca)

Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime. Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other everyday.

NICHOLAS SPARKS, THE WEDDING (via thelovewhisperer)

(via x-highonlife)

(via vrncaaaa-deactivated20130328)

(via helainetieu)

My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t smile when I was talking to him. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else. And after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all.

Diane Les Becquets (via stephanietiffany)

(via x-highonlife)