just take things a little at a time.
-caroline
×

❝First love is scary because it’s like “holy crap, why is this person the first thing I think of in the morning, why am I disappointed when I don’t dream of them? Why is the desire to be with them so much stronger than hunger and thirst and exhaustion? Why does their name look so pretty written down? Why do I feel like I just fell out of a 30 story building when they look at me, and why do I like it?” And you become so comfortable with them that when they leave, your body doesn’t know how to react because they were as common to you as breathing, and now you’re missing a vital part of yourself. You forget that you were someone before them. You think “I was so empty until I met them.” No, you were full. And when you learned about love, you were fuller. Now you’re back to where you were before, and you need to fill yourself with other things. Fall in love with the way sunflowers naturally curve to face the sun, and the way children have no idea about taxes. Fall in love with the fact that you’re here and you’re still able to feel. Fall in love with the idea that you’re still whole, even when it’s 3 am and you can’t remember how to breathe because you think they taught you how to do that.❞

— Lessons about Heartbreak from a Hypocrite by Megan M. (via radicalteen)
×
×

❝My acquisition and digestion of books is, to be frank, absurd. Just get a Kindle, everyone advised me a few years ago. Yet here I am, packing for a short flight between London and Belfast, with my Kindle, certainly, but also with four or five hardback books jammed into my hand luggage, just in case. Just in case we happen to fly through a wrinkle in time in which an hour expands to accommodate infinity.❞

×
× africantea:

✩
×

It’s really strange, but I think I’ll be giving this blogging thing another go. I’ll start by transferring whatever journal posts I made on BARE’s website onto my blog (since I don’t want to deal with the trouble of setting up a WordPress/Blogger account from scratch again). 

I never thought that blogging was a sustainable (albeit fun) past time for me, but I’ve been writing a lot lately and it’s been pretty cathartic. I am grateful for having a little time everyday to write about whatever I want. That’s pretty liberating.

No pressure, no commitments. If it fails, it fails. But if I slowly ease my way into loving words that much more, then I don’t see any problem with that.