I dream sky high.

did you ever feel what I felt did you ever fall how I fell walking away did you ever look back like I did

Gabriel Garcia Marquez  (via thelovejournals)

I’m still writing about you and you haven’t read a word.

One of the risks of being quiet is that other people can fill your silence with their own interpretation: You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re shy. You’re stuck up. You’re judgmental. When others can’t read us, they write their own story—not always one we choose or that’s true to who we are.

It bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad.

I’m in love with everything that is unreachable– the stars, the moon, and you.

I wish I had a someone who would observe me silently, who would capture all my habits and quirks, and still love me. Someone that would get lost in how my fine features define my face, while smiling or crying, and still love me.

It is sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew.

I tell myself I am searching for something. But more and more, it feels like I am wandering, waiting for something to happen to me, something that will change everything, something that my whole life has been leading up to.