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(Source: sleepyblob, via dingbatqueen)

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Homey touches.

Homey touches.

I don’t remember what your voice sounds like anymore. I don’t know your phone number by heart anymore. I don’t remember the size of your hands or how they felt when they were in mine. Not anymore.

I forgot it all.

I mean, if I really wanted to, I’m sure I could dig in my memory and remember every single detail of it all. Every single detail about you. But I’ve finally let go. I don’t care to put the thought into it. I don’t want to hold on to those things anymore, and I feel so free.

You were someone that made me very very happy for a long time, and that’s all I need to remember.

But you don’t anymore, and I need to remember that too.

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"Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened every day and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes."
Kalyn RoseAnne, (x)

(Source: quotethat, via samdesantis)

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Rock climbing (aka scooting down rocks on my butt)

Rock climbing (aka scooting down rocks on my butt)

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Cotton candy & a rotten mouth.

Cotton candy & a rotten mouth.

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Waiting for Young the Giant & Kings of Leon to take the stage. 👍

Waiting for Young the Giant & Kings of Leon to take the stage. 👍

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#TBT to the greatest night ever / Happy Bey Day, y’all.

#TBT to the greatest night ever / Happy Bey Day, y’all.

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A second of my life every day of August (and some July too)

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"you have
parts of me
that will
always be
yours —
even if
you don’t
want them."
Kei, why missing you gets under my skin (via abluesforbrklyn)

(via ofvastoceans)

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Hands glued to my hips.

Hands glued to my hips.

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"She’s uh… she’s got sandy blonde hair. She’s uh… pretty good looking face, but I’m just getting really… just kinda TO’d because… I mean she hasn’t even sent me a full body shot yet."

"She’s uh… she’s got sandy blonde hair. She’s uh… pretty good looking face, but I’m just getting really… just kinda TO’d because… I mean she hasn’t even sent me a full body shot yet."

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Sarah, Alexis, and John had me watch this (and the end of the first Sharknado) last night. Needless to say, I’m obsessed. Can I get a “Sharknado 2: The Second One” tattoo?

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boara:

HE THOUGHT HIS LIL FRIEND GOT BAKED INTO A COOKIE I AM 100% DONE AWHH

(Source: swallowthesound, via samdesantis)