"And when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name...Tell them how I hope they shine. Long live all the walls we crashed through. I had the time of my life with you."
If you are like me, you believe that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who believe only through careful examination and those who believe blindly. The former are those who rely on numbers and data. They want to know not why the birds fly, but how. If you are like me, you belong…
So this happened
If you are like me, you believe wholeheartedly in fairy tales, grasping tightly to the promised happy ending. Maybe there is even a villain or two standing in your way, because what story would be complete without a struggle? But when the battle ends and the dust settles, the heroine will be…

You will suddenly realize that the reason you never changed before was because you didn’t want to.

“It’s amazing, some people, they just say these small little things, one sentence and it changes the way you feel about them in an instant. Small little words that can hurt you so much or make you fall deeply in love forever. It changes everything; nothing between you is ever really the same again, even if they don’t know it.”

(Source: girl-i-aint-no-hipster, via fashionboysandrepeat)
There are much worse games to play.

“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.”

“I’m not sentimental—I’m as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last—the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won’t.”

“I think that most of us, anyway, read these stories that we know are not “true” because we’re hungry for another kind of truth: the mythic truth about human nature in general, the particular truth about those life-communities that define our own identity, and the most specific truth of all: our own self-story. Fiction, because it is not about someone who lived in the real world, always has the possibility of being about oneself. ”