(Source: up-right, via iwantmylifetolooklikethis)
(Source: w-orry, via a-floral-dream)
(Source: framo58, via endeavoursandpleasantries)
she lit a fire, and now she’s in my every thought.
(Source: acompletelife, via endeavoursandpleasantries)
I actually attack the concept of happiness. The idea that - I don’t mind people being happy - but the idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying “write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep”, and “cheer up” and “happiness is our birthright” and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position - it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say “Quick! Move on! Cheer up!” I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word “happiness” and to replace it with the word “wholeness”. Ask yourself “is this contributing to my wholeness?” and if you’re having a bad day, it is.
Hugh Mackay
Hugh Mackay
(Source: black-wolves, via illude)
(Source: a-sky-so-cherished, via meggielynne)
(Source: breadandolives, via peanut-butter-bananas)
the pasta sauce | fresh tomato, goats cheese and basil
(via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
(Source: bruisestoproveit, via move-the-mountainss)
I miss you and I believe in my stomach that you miss me too, but I wish we missed each other in the same way. I wish you weren’t weird and I wish I wasn’t weird and I wish we could be friends…
But you were a learning experience, and we both said goodbye, and it was the end for now, and probably forever.
I don’t love you anymore, because you aren’t the you whose intricacies I have engraved in my skin, whose kisses cover me like a moth-eaten blanket. You’re different now. The callouses I sloughed away over months of unprecedented softness, intimacy, are there again, thicker. And you treat me like some splinter, trying to make you bleed. Maybe I rubbed you too raw, before… but you were my first. I didn’t know any better.
You were a learning experience. I wish you wouldn’t hold that against me.
I miss you.
