rather naked than judged.

“What do you value most? Some one I love.”

“Suddenly you’re 21 and you’re screaming along in the car to all the songs you listened to when you were sad in middle school and everything is different but everything is good.”

chandelyer:

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.

“Out of everyone you were my priority and I was your option.”

I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you.

i couldn’t not reblog this

A room of my own, a room that i do not share with anyone, a room that has shared with me several moments. The walls are different from all others on my home, they have seen me crying, sick, discouraged, thoughtful, naked, living moments of pleasure and pain. Sometimes I lie down on my bed, tired, sad, disgusted with the world and with life! And i grip away all of my displeasure. Lying i remember old dreams, past stories and loves, which i try to draw away from memory but the nostalgia doesn’t let me! It’s the perfect place to think and feel everything. My bed, already felt me traveling, my heart pounding, flying, screaming, crying, but never left the place, always hearing my warning screams! My room is my haven, my friend, almost my second conscience. If the walls could talk, they could tell most of my stories because there I lived and remember the goods and the bads moments of my life! It has always the door open, but the secrets are recorded in each My bedroom is the most intimate place of a house, knows our inside and out. And we all have our secrets, our forbidden gardens, things we keep in our intimacy. My room is my shelter.

I have great hopes for the house that we settle in a place to call home, our home, together. You will have a place to go lounge at and nestle in stay in my arms, and our home forever