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"Build a good name. Keep your name clean. Don’t make compromises, don’t worry about making a bunch of money or being successful — be concerned with doing good work and make the right choices and protect your work. And if you build a good name, eventually, that name will be its own currency."

- Patti Smith, on the best advice she ever got  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

"i have clawed myself clean
of flowers and little girl things
i forged myself from the silver
i thought meant home
i reshaped a legacy, stood small against thousands of years
and said
we will not kill anymore
there will be no more blood on our hands
we have a new destiny
and i made them listen
with small fingers and sharp knives
i have been dipped in kerosene and shot
onto a funeral pyre
i have burned and set out to sea
i rose from my own ashes again
and again
and again
but this time, i’m not aflame"

- it seems silver doesn’t only kill wolves — l.b. (via scottinpanties)

(via afigureofspeech)

vampire-gerard:

ask-dr-knockout:

meelo-dot-net:

a public service announcement

This.

You will only end up with mud on your palette and tears on your face

(via lights-and-colours)

"What do I want? What kind of question is that? I want what everybody wants. I want someone who has my back. I want someone’s name to put in the space after “in an emergency please call.” I want someone who will drink the other half of the bottle of wine so I don’t. And someone to make it worth sitting down at an actual table to eat. I want someone who’s dying to get home after a long day because I’m going to be there."

- Claire Cook, Best Staged Plans (via quoted-books)

(via onebefuddledmuddle)

"

1. Do not date a boy who does not care what your favourite song is. The boy who does not care what melodies ignite your heart strings with love and wonder while staring at passing street lights on the last train home, will not care if it’s 2 a.m. and your heart is breaking.

2. Do not let anyone fold you up like last winters tattered scarf and put you away with the others in a neatly labeled box. Even when there’s thunder and the sky is crying, you are your mum’s favourite summer dress. You are to wear yourself like you believe it.

3. We are all stories. Write yours how you want. Make today’s chapter about purposely taking the wrong bus and discovering a tiny blue tea shop, or folding origami paper hearts over and over on your window sill. Just make sure it’s something you’d enjoy reading.

4. I will always try to save you.

5. Someday you will be 19 and lost and heartbroken and you will think about a place you’ve seen on TV or heard or read about in a book or seen a picture of. You will feel your heart drop into your stomach. Go there. For a day, a month, forever, but it’s important that you go.

6. The world is so beautiful. Do not let the slumped over homeless man outside the convenience store or the stories of guns and bombs on the television let you believe otherwise. We are all so lost. All of us. We all show it in different ways. I write bad poems. Others start wars. There is no inherent evil, only good people searching too hard.

7. I love everything about you.

8. Money turns people into liars and emotional ghosts. School grades are an inaccurate representation of you. Measure your life’s worth in how many times you’ve nearly lost your life to laughter, how many books you’ve closed with happy tears in your eyes, people whose lives you’ve brought joy to, marshmallows eaten, or countries visited.

9. Don’t ever let anyone tell you to stop crying. Cry if you want to. It’s okay. You’re allowed.

10. My best friend once told me that the most important decision he had ever made was to love everyone and everything. He’s the only person I’ve ever known to have a viewable aura of light around him. Don’t forget to love this world, to love people. Be light. You are already mine.

"

- 10 things I will tell my daughter. - Julia LaValley (via steadies)

(via petitlapinu)

"What did I love about you?
I don’t want to be an uneasy poetic cliché at a poetry reading,
but Jesus Christ was there anything I didn’t love about you?
Nothing, I loved..
Everything.
Absolutely, fucking, everything.
When you first spoke to me-..
Holy, shit.
My heart was racing so fast it felt like my veins were about to burst with blood replaced by ink and script gorgeous poetry right into my bedroom walls.
Breathing was such an unfamiliar practice around you,
and I couldn’t believe you had a name that I had the luxury of rolling off of my tongue, a hand to hold tightly, a heart to hold sweetly,
You had a smile that shined so bright that I was convinced sunrise has been never-ending since we first met.
You had a laugh that pierced every single demon in the heart and blossomed beautiful flowers across my fragile chest.
We intertwined fingers, the world our canvas, every movement painting something unfathomably picturesque.
When you-
When you.. fuck.
When you told me you loved me back,
there was no other soul existing in that moment, your lips curved at the edges and your cheeks blushed rose red.
Every single second in my lifetime could have passed slowly
and I wouldn’t have even noticed, I was so confided in something that just looked past me like I was nothing but a ghost in the snow and my expression of love has been run into the ground,
This is just a three minute heart spill.
I can’t even pierce the surface of what I love about you,
you’re.. gone now,
and-..
I want you back so bad."

- Hayden Cooper - “I wrote this for a poetry slam it’s called “What did I love about you?” (via heartrate)

(via proudlyadorkable)

thespiritofghibli:

kodama // tree-dwelling spirits of the forest that are believed to bring good luck.

thespiritofghibli:

kodama // tree-dwelling spirits of the forest that are believed to bring good luck.

wordsbydelaney:

My problem is that I fall in love with words, rather than actions.

I fall in love with ideas and thoughts, instead of reality.

And it will be the death of me.

(via mirarr)

"Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you’ve felt that way."

- Charles Bukowski

(via poisoned-honey)

eloqucet:

jellys everywhere by ailene_carroll on Flickr.
danlophotography:

View from Capilano Suspension Bridge | Vancouver, Canada

danlophotography:

View from Capilano Suspension Bridge | Vancouver, Canada

(via bonkatron)

"

When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.

Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”

When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.

Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”

I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.

She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”

“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”

He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”

Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”

When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”

Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”

Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.

He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.

Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.

Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.

One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.

I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”

Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.

It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.

It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.

It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.

There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.

I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.

"

- By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via giraffesque)