you’re going to love again, find a job again, create art again, do what you love again, feel powerful again. you’re going to be back on track. i don’t know when, but you are going to feel like yourself again, eventually. this isn’t the end. hang in there.

next time you stand in a public place think about the fact that everyone around you have sobbed until they felt they would break at least once in their life, every single one has been nervous, scared. they’ve all felt small once, insecure too. they’ve all felt so alone they thought their chest would cave in on itself, wishing someone would see them and hug them. they’ve laughed until their stomach cramped too, they’ve all seen or felt a sunset, they’ve all loved something or someone, they all want to be loved too. everyone else is a lot more human than we tend to give them credit for

okay i’m curious bc my parents were relatively young having me but idk what age difference is “normal” between parents and kids as i’ve met people with plenty of variations. so if you want, reblog this and tag (don’t comment) how old your parents were when they had you. my mom was 25 and my dad was 21. 

The sound of heavy rain while you are in bed.

aside from being the worst person alive i am literally perfect

tumblr is my scrapbook, i find something pretty i want to look at later and i glue it to a page . like yesssss you are my little memory forever to look at lovingly