(Source: mypostgraduatelife)

I started writing again.

(Source: a-n-n-i-t-a)

Texas Country, Y’all (at Itasca)


“I wanted to stay,
I wanted to play,
I wanted to love you…”

One of my favorite songs of all time. And my absolute favorite live recording of this one. 

(Source: Spotify)

So, today, I found The One. (at Guitar Center)

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better. 


faithammen:

Dear Mrs. Reagan

And you are Mrs. Reagan because Mr. Reagan loves you with all his heart. Every time Mr. Reagan sees the evening star or blows out the birthday candles or gets the big end of the wishbone he thinks the same wish—a prayer really—that so much happiness will go on and somehow be deserved by him.

It is true sometimes that Mr. Reagan loses his temper and slams a door but that’s because he can’t cry or stamp his foot—(he isn’t really the type.) But mad or glad Mr. Reagan is head over heels in love with Mrs. Reagan and can’t even imagine a world without her—

He loves her

        Mr. Reagan

If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.
Charles Bukowski (via paradoxicalsentiments)

(Source: spiritual-mess)

(Source: glassmonsters)