Your effort won't betray you.

mysticomancy:

“… the intimate relation between cruelty and love.”

— Charles Baudelaire, Intimate Journals

(via snjeguljicaaa)

hertalesdiary:

The best parts of your life will be the small, nameless moments you spend smiling with someone who matters to you.

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poetry-siir:

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catchymemes:

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imaginaryminnd-deactivated20221:

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redrosefields:

have you considered you should all be insanely proud of yourselves because this world can be a cruel, cruel place, but you’re still here and that means everything to the people who love you? have you considered that each day you get up and fight even when it feels impossible, and for that you’re incredibly strong? have you considered that i love you and i’m proud of you

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deatholy:

hug me until i smell like you

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zilliondollapussy:

kuwaiti-remarkable:

friends that understand your anti-social phases and don’t take it personally are important.

So grateful for them

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010180000:

You need a rest. You need empty moments in which you tolerate your anxiety and circling thoughts until they slow down and stop circling. You need slow, quiet activities that ground you and remind you to accept yourself in spite of huge obstacles and bad thoughts. You need to put solutions out of your mind for now, and engage in activities that have nothing to do with your ego. You need habits that strengthen your patience and focus, but also feel real and not arbitrary. You need to abandon your glorious future and build your imperfect present instead.

Ask Polly: “I’m Lazy, Reckless and Addicted To Social Media. Help!”

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httpstaygold-deactivated2023052:

no thoughts, just this.

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crabussy:

hey. don’t cry. crush four cloves of garlic into a pot with a dollop of olive oil and stir until golden then add one can of crushed tomatoes a bit of balsamic vinegar half a tablespoon of brown sugar half a cup of grated parmesan cheese and stir for a few minutes adding a handful of fresh spinach until wilted and mix in pasta of your choice ok?

finita–la–commedia:

“Love means … – you are mine.”

— Marina Tsvetaeva (1892-1941), from “Poem Of The End” (1924), translated from the Russian by Mary Jane White

“Любовь, это значит… 
         – Мой.“

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incredible-beast:

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mirrorsinner:

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chillpotato:

- Mary Shelley, from a letter to Arthur Brooke written c. June 1824

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