Posted 1 hour ago / 7,756 notes / Via: try-to-stay-positive

Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.
Posted 23 hours ago / 3,415 notes #caterpillar #tranformation / Via: affably-evil
Pat Barker, Regeneration (via petrichour)

(Source: awritersruminations)

If you’re curious.
Posted 1 day ago / 159 notes / Via: try-to-stay-positive

finding-my-bones:

I walked to the train station, it took me fourty-five minutes to get there. I sat and waited for the 10:50 train to come.
At about 10:30pm a girl who looked to be 19 years old came and sat next to me on the bench, which was odd.
She started to make small talk and introduced her self as Jane. I soon found out that she was waiting for the same train I was. 
“Can I tell you something?”  Ofcourse, I said. “I’m not waiting to go on the train, I’m going to run in front of it. I’m committing suicide.” 
At this point I started crying because I was there for the same reason. I told her that. 
We told eachother our life stories. I told her everything. More than anyone knows, more than Sam knows, more than even my followers know.

We sat there together.

At 10:50 we held hands and watched the train go by. 

(Source: crushing-diasies)

Posted 2 days ago / 102 notes / Via: leadingtone

leadingtone:

Tonight I saw a young lady overcome with emotion crawl out of her hospital bed and sit on the hallway floor to hear a group of some of my dearest friends and me sing four-part carols. I watched the faces of busy, serious coffee shop evening patrons come alive and sparkle in silence to the strains of God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen. An elderly couple invited us into their home—they had heard we were coming and put up a small, brightly lit tree just so we’d have a fitting backdrop—and though that gentlemen is suffering from Alzheimer’s and kept quietly to himself in his chair, he hummed along with almost every tune. When we were finished, the lady of the house sat up with pride to tell us she’d been singing in her church choir since Pearl Harbor, and to say what lovely voices we have. At the end of our little journey we were welcomed into a home with hot cider, Amish bread, venison stew, and a Dachshund with a pretty impressive repertoire of his own tricks. 

As performers we’re always pushing ourselves to new depths and heights. And for a composer, it’s good to look for untrod paths and to challenge the language in meaningful and engaging ways. Those are unending pursuits, with the white stag always just out of reach. Rightly so. But it’s a thick forest. One can get pretty scraped up in the process.  

But never forget that music is medicine; etymologically, to entertain is to entretenir—to hold together, to support. To make music is to be healer and patient all at once.  

Posted 3 days ago / 38 notes / Via: despicablealexis

Delete her number.

Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.

Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.

She loves you.

She has been in love with you for too long.

So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts.

Forget her.

Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her.

Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment.

Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it.

What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you.

Doggedly loyal to you.

That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reach out to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard?

She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now.

Right now.

But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.
for you (via sourientmesbeaux)

(Source: laurenhooper)

Posted 4 days ago / 29 notes / Via: septagonstudios

septagonstudios:

Alessandro Gottardo

septagonstudios:

Alessandro Gottardo

Posted 5 days ago / 42 notes / Via: beautiful-portals

beautiful-portals:

Hang En Cave, Vietnam - National Geographic
Photograph by Carsten Peter

beautiful-portals:

Hang En Cave, Vietnam - National Geographic

Photograph by Carsten Peter

Posted 6 days ago / 3,927 notes / Via: woodendreams

woodendreams:

(by Jen Red)

woodendreams:

(by Jen Red)

Posted 1 week ago / 5,269 notes / Via: iheartmyart

iheartmyart:

BERG Studio, light painting the city with Matt Jones, 2010
See the video of the Making of Future Magic: Painting with the IPad
Purchase the book of prints. 

iheartmyart:

BERG Studio, light painting the city with Matt Jones, 2010

See the video of the Making of Future Magic: Painting with the IPad

Purchase the book of prints. 

Posted 1 week ago / 63 notes / Via: woodendreams

woodendreams:

(by °ico)

woodendreams:

(by °ico)

Posted 1 week ago / 10,211 notes / Via: affably-evil

cinemagorgeous:

The gorgeous art of Noah Bradley.

Posted 1 week ago / 532 notes / Via: inkterests

Posted 1 week ago / 9,509 notes / Via: inkterests

iammyfather:

syfycity:

My favorite wallpaper from the now defunct dizorb.com (unknown artist) [1920x1080]

 Cityscape by Marco Bauriedel.

iammyfather:

syfycity:

My favorite wallpaper from the now defunct dizorb.com (unknown artist) [1920x1080]

 Cityscape by Marco Bauriedel.

writing randomosities ofpensandswordsideas and plunnies and musings, and stuff. yup. but mostly inspirational type pictures or whatever, I'm good at finding those. haha.

WATCH OUT, though, I can tend to get pretty sentimental about writing in general. XD

---

normalcy

marmarmar :3

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