cosmosdrift:

source::ua
calms:

displanting:

wonderful-roses:

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● vintage & indie blog ●
It is not the length of life, but the depth.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson (via observando)

(via deep-intothemountainsound)


euo:




ana teresa barboza





Tear my heart out please. It’s yours.
TKC

Oh sweet Tabby. I have been completely & utterly blindsided by your untimely departure. Laid flat. Laid bare & raw. Your light was one I’ve always been happy to see shining, & I immensely enjoyed every conversation, every goofy & random moment, & every chain-smoking patio session at Ashley’s, all the bits & pieces of our lives that we shared with each other. Though we weren’t the closest of friends, I felt a great connection with you, as if we were made of the same stuff— I could share anything with you & you would accept me & offer advice without an ounce of judgement. You’ve often crossed my mind in the years since I last saw you, always with fondness & a hope to see you again. I am destroyed by the thought that I never will. My heart is with everyone who treasures you & loves you fiercely— as you deserve to be loved.

“for life’s not a paragraph
and death i think is no parenthesis”


Too Many Already

There’s such a huge difference between missing someone because you haven’t seen them in a while & missing someone because suddenly, tragically, devastatingly, you’ll never see them again. It’s a sharper pain, more visceral, & completely unquenchable.


White peonies for Tabby in my mind.
Only 24

In my dream last night, we leaned over the porch railing & watched dolphins cresting in the surf. Your hand was on the small of my back, fingers spread wide, palms warm & solid. My friend sat against the wall behind us, no longer gone, still here & breathing. She smoked cigarettes & we helped count her tattoos. The dolphins all had her name, & soon they disappeared into the ocean’s depths; I guess they took her with them when they dove— she was gone when we turned around, cigarette still burning in the ashtray. We’d only counted 24 tattoos.


You will call me sweetheart
and I will still stumble over
good morning

I will want to know how many breaths you take after waking up
before you consider yourself alive

I will shiver when you touch me
do not be offended;
you are the warmest person I know.

- How the beginning will go — Meghan Lynn   (via chivalry-happens)

(via bigfatcherrybomb)