“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, ‘It might have been.’”
—Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle (via throwingpeaches
Well, that’s the coolest #cake display I’ve ever seen. #vscocam (at Oakleaf Cake)
Hot #chocolate date to celebrate the first #snow! #latergram #winteriscoming #vscocam (at Thinking Cup)
“Later on when you bargain with your mirror,
and you ask ‘Is it really that bad?’
If it wasn’t you wouldn’t have to ask.”
—Bad Books, You Wouldn’t Have to Ask (via thecitylimits
I really just want to go on a date.
One night for me to put on my best dress, to pay attention to someone and to be paid attention to, and to try my damnedest to be charming.
The chance—that’s all I want. A chance to be appreciated, and a chance to feel “new” again.
I haven’t felt that way in far too long.
“Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.”
—The Winter of the Air