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#spilled heart
susanomalis · 3 days
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It’s cute that you don’t realize that you are so easy to be loved.
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sal-loves-luna · 3 days
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How bad did it hurt ?
Bad enough to become a writer, Bad enough to burn silently, bad enough to cry alone at night ,bad enough to feel alone in bunch of people,bad enough to focus on studies with broken heart, bad enough to question my look and personality,bad enough to regret myself.........
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bymarahh · 3 days
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IG @bymarahh
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chand-ki-priyatama · 3 days
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"Just Me, him and the moon"....
You are my "MOON"
I your "MOONSHINE"
Tum mere "CHAAND"
Mai tumhari "CHANDNI".... ~K.Y 💗
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quantum-bliss · 6 hours
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Sometimes you have let go of whats in your hand not to find something better, but because what you are holding is inserting poison into your veins. And you know you can't hold on without killing yourself in the process.
-Quantum Bliss
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inkwelloftheheart · 21 hours
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it is something deeper something that's mellowed and grown richer over time something that feels warm, safe, and precious something more enduring and valuable that no other can take away and i've found it in you i love you.
-Flynn Caulfield
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thewaitingluna · 2 days
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I’ll love you through pricked fingers, lockjaw and chiseled bones.
So come to me, on nights you feel absolutely alone.
I’ll be your home.
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I am the type of lover who'd write love letters.
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sankalp123 · 2 days
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Does it ever get better?
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bebs-art-gallery · 21 days
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Dear Desolation by Eliran Kantor † Love of the Wolf by Hélène Cixous
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susanomalis · 18 hours
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And with the two arms that you use to hold me, I can safely say I’m home, and this is where I belong.
- may it forever be this way
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academia-lucifer · 2 months
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What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
— J.D. Salinger.
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bymarahh · 24 hours
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IG @bymarahh
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cerleansky · 2 years
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The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
~Edit~
Yikes guys I didn’t expect this post to blow up.
I’m grateful it did though. Looking at all the comments and tags really takes a stab at my heart because it just shows how wired we are for connection. If life has any meaning, then it’s that.
This concept really sunk its teeth into me as it reassures the notion that no one is ever truly gone. Parts of them just change into you.
That teacher I talked about inspired me to become a teacher myself. This was my first year teaching. Here’s to a new generation of curved i’s.
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quantum-bliss · 2 days
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I hope you find what you were looking for, I hope it works out this time, I hope you build something beautiful, I hope you get what you desire, I hope what made you destroy us was worth it. Because if it doesnt work out that would mean you sacrificed everything for something rain and time would eventually wash away. That is the saddest thing in the world, trading everything for nothing.
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becomingvecna · 1 month
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