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Si tienes un sueño promete que lucharás por cumplirlo porque quiero escuchar algún día la historia de cómo lo lograste.

Maya Márquez (via denisesoyletras)

Hasta mis escritos ya se aburrieron de tu existencia. No volveré a mencionar tu nombre, no volveré a usar mis letras en ti. Se acabaron los “te extraño” y se fueron los “vuelve”. Compré un poco de dignidad, me vestí de un tanto de orgullo, me arreglé la seguridad y te saqué, clavo. Siguiente capítulo.

(via narcotic)

And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.

Unknown (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(via ricciolidimoca)

thesunpouredinmyeyes:

Yalnız yaşasaydım konulu kompozisyon.

thesunpouredinmyeyes:

Yalnız yaşasaydım konulu kompozisyon.

betype:

witandwhistle
I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.

Alice Walker (via writingbox)

(via onehandwriting)

Y me pierdo en algún lugar de mi mente, en donde se guardan todos aquellos recuerdos sobre ti, cada momento que pasamos juntos, y empiezo a imaginar como hubiera sido nuestro final perfecto lo que me causa mucha felicidad y es entonces cuando te extraño; al extrañarte busco las razones del porque lo hago, para terminar en la conclusión de que te extraño porque ya no hablamos, al menos no como antes, lo que me recuerda que estoy haciendo mal en imaginarme un final feliz junto a ti , acto seguido me regaño a mi misma por ser tan ilusa al mismo tiempo que escribo una lista mental de todas y cada una de las razones por las que ya no debo extrañarte.

Así últimamente, pienso en ti para luego extrañarte y terminar sintiéndome mal por ello porque sé que, al final, esa ilusión no se cumplirá, y la herida que al principio era un rasguño terminara más profunda de lo que ya es.

1. I refuse to believe you never felt something.
[delete]
2. I prefer your drunk words over your sober ones.
[delete]
4. I don’t love you. I just miss you and I don’t want to lose you.
[delete]
5. I hate that you never miss me.
[delete]
6. You’re a selfish prick! Fuck you!
[delete]
7. I’m lonely and lost but I always feel safe in your arms.
[delete]
8. I wish you were my first kiss.
[delete]
9. I almost cried because of you. I never cry.
[delete]
10. Your hands are the only ones my body craves.
[delete]
11. Don’t treat me like a challenge.
[delete]

11 Texts I Almost Sent You (via 19745)

(via cheeky-gypsy)