But what if I never get over you?
What if I continue to wake up every day of my fucking life & want you so badly that my bones shake so much that they feel like they’re going to break?
What if I keep waiting for a call or a text or a sign from God that never comes?
What if you were the one but I wasn’t?
What if you never loved me back? (via caramelcoatedxxxtacy
Tuesday Sep 9 @ 10:10pm with 8,160 notes
Sunday Sep 9 @ 10:33pm with 365,630 notes
Let’s remember, Jesus was a Jewish man of color, born homeless to an unwed teenager, who spent his formative years as an illegal immigrant before returning to his home country to hang out with twelve men, prostitutes, and socially untouchable tax collectors while he taught a radical social doctrine of equality, love, and forgiveness that included paying taxes, free healthcare, and the sharing of resources within a community.
canon Jesus is better than fandom Jesus
Hang in there. It is astonishing how short a time it can take for very wonderful things to happen.
Frances Hodgson Burnett (via jewelsonthroats
Sunday Sep 9 @ 07:46pm with 7,626 notes
Does she scare you a little? Good. She should make you fear her love, so that when she lets you be apart of it, you won’t take it lightly. She should remind you of the power that beauty brings, that storms reside in her veins, and that she still wants you in the middle of it all. Do not take this soul for granted, for she is fierce, and she can take you places that you never thought you could go; but she is still loving in the midst of it all, like the calm rain after a storm, she can bring life. Learn her, and cherish her, respect her, and love her; for she is so much more than a pretty face, she is a soul on fire.
T.B. LaBerge // Things I’m still learning at 25 (via jewelsonthroats
Sunday Sep 9 @ 07:43pm with 6,879 notes
Most days, it is my stomach that takes the hit for my love, but I am too busy apologising to my heart for all the times I have made it feel like a dog on a leash. The couple in the flat above me are arguing like crows over food. They turn their home into a public place, they turn their home into a court room where no one is the judge except for the furniture. He throws plates at the wall and she looks at him and remembers that he loved her once. He looks at her and thinks of all the ways a body can change. They both stay because they don’t know how not to. I sit a floor beneath them and think about water and think about my stomach and the things I have put it through for love. The last heartbreak was a sea flooding my lungs. The last heartbreak looked like a lone bible sitting on the floor of a burning church. A man prays for forgiveness in the middle of a war-zone, his eyebrows are on fire. God is listening through the space between two buildings but the man does not know he is there and he stays on his knees. This is either stupid or it is brave, either way, I want it. I am looking for calm like this, for love like this. My devotion takes more space than my body can warrant, my devotion is flammable and everything I touch becomes a forest fire that leaves scorch marks at the bottom of my stomach. I am sorry for my body, I am sorry that I have filled it with other people and forgotten to leave space for myself. I am sorry for all the howling nights that my love felt like a fist closed around the carnival of my insides. All the performers have left, and the place is in havoc. The lights are off and the lions are pawing at the ground and roaring. They are looking for something to eat. Soon they will start on me. I think about my stomach, I tell him that I love him, he tells me that this is too much and I apologise to my heart again for the fallout. I wonder if morticians prefer dead bodies because when you tell them ‘I love you’ their silence sounds like ‘I love you too’. Funeral homes are littered with people like this. They are talking to the dead and are thankful that the dead cannot talk back.
“Love song for my stomach and the wars it has eaten” (via 5000letters
Sunday Sep 9 @ 06:14pm with 849 notes