untitled by smallcutsensations on Flickr.

untitled by smallcutsensations on Flickr.

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.

You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.


Junot Diaz, This is How You Lose Her (via golden-notes)

like ngl the book hit me really hard

(via -osito)

(via peterisagirl)

"Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room."

Cheryl Strayed

Everything you love is here

(via lovequotesrus)

(Source: quotes-shape-us, via lovequotesrus)


(by smallcutsensations)

(by smallcutsensations)

sin título by smallcutsensations on Flickr.

(Source: nymheria, via kissedbyflames)

we need to be nicer

Untitled by smallcutsensations
Untitled by smallcutsensations
Untitled by smallcutsensations

∆ 27
Ich trage meine Kreuze und die der anderen. Verpasse es manchmal, sie abzulegen, zehn Tonnen Gewicht auf den Schultern. Wenn man sich mit Abschiedsgedanken trägt, die alten Verständlichkeiten in Seidenpapier eingewickelt. Der Knoten in der Brust, Fragen nach einem anderen Tag.
Ich fülle die Lücken in den Steinen, Kanten, es wird rund, man spürt die alten Brüche noch. Darüber schreiben, um zu erfahren, um zu erleben zu können - mit und ohne Filter vor dem Inneren.

Manche sammeln Menschen wie Murmeln, sie rollen durch den Körper, zumindest tun sie das bei mir. Der Schatzjäger in einem und die Versprechen, die Andere nicht halten können. Dabei habe ich mich schon in Grund und Boden geblutet.

I carry my own crosses and those of others. At times, I miss out on setting them aside, a weight of ten tons on my shoulders. I carry thoughts soaked in goodbyes with me, tissue paper wrapped around what used to be self-evident. Knot in the rib cage; me, continuously asking for a different, a new day. I fill the gaps in-between stones, edges, I turn them into something smooth. You can still feel the old cracks. Writing to experience, to witness - with and without a filter, a shield in front of the core.

Some collect people as they would collect marbles, they roll through the body or at least they do so in mine. The treasure hunter within and the promises others are not able to keep. But I have already bled myself into the ground.
for the good times
and bad times we know will come
(The Cardigans - I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer)

(Source: sassiestnugget, via kingsleyyy)


Riverside Museum Sunset


Riverside Museum Sunset

"Notice the people who are happy for your happiness, and sad for your sadness. They’re the ones who deserve special places in your heart."
— (via magnificent-url)

(Source: moeyhashy, via littlesx)

"You see the first thing we love is a scene. For love at first sight requires the very sign of its suddenness; and of all things, it is the scene which seems to be seen best for the first time: a curtain parts and what had not yet ever been seen is devoured by the eyes: the scene consecrates the object I am going to love. The context is the constellation of elements, harmoniously arranged that encompass the experience of the amorous subject…
Love at first sight is always spoken in the past tense. The scene is perfectly adapted to this temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, it is already a memory (the nature of a photograph is not to represent but to memorialize)… this scene has all the magnificence of an accident: I cannot get over having had this good fortune: to meet what matches my desire."
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments (via wordsnquotes)

(via littlesx)


(by smallcutsensations)