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Maybe love is in New York City, already asleep. You are in California, Australia, wide awake. Maybe love is always in the wrong time zone. Maybe love is not ready for you. Maybe you are not ready for love. Maybe love just isn’t the marrying type. Maybe the next time you see love is twenty years after the divorce–love looks older now, but just as beautiful as you remember. Maybe love is only there for a month. Maybe love is there for every firework, every birthday party, every hospital visit.

Maybe love stays. Maybe love can’t. Maybe love shouldn’t.

Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to, and love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives say, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.” If love leaves, ask her to leave the door opened behind her. Turn off the music. Listen to the quiet. Whisper, “Thank you for stopping by.”

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- (via zaymmaliks)
missbarca:

opsucrus:

This actually makes complete sense.  

hahhaha omgosh

missbarca:

opsucrus:

This actually makes complete sense.  

hahhaha omgosh

"He turned me into an object and I turned him into a god. How sick is that?"

- (via paintdeath)

Some like it Hot (1959)

khl0ekardashian:

Nicole Richie talking with her dad after teaching her how to parallel park.

mollyfostergraham:

*Judges people by their opinion on Lionel Messi*

"All you need to know about Sansa in this book is that she has a direwolf – a giant, monstrous wolf, a half-mythological monster, a killing machine – and she names it Lady."

-

Shmoop (via kissfistthat)

You’re goddamn right she did.

(via brainstatic)

(via curiousgeorgiana)

extrasadsmom:

The fact that my ex is still alive proves to me that our loved ones have no power in the afterlife.

  • friend about my crushes: he's old enough to be your father
  • me: BUT HE IS NOT MY FATHER