making chocolate-chai cupcakes
sometimes you say and do the cutest things. this makes me happy/ confused… i think that you are very sweet, i hope you know that. ugh what am i doing to myself? not this again!
“Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.” —
Haruki Murakami (via saddest-summer
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret” —Pablo Neruda (via philphys)
“I don’t. I don’t want anybody else to touch you. I’m silly. I get furious if they touch you.” —Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via thebooksmartdevil)
“I’m the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible.” —Elizabeth Wurtzel (via atomos)
still having nightmares about you.
“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” —
“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.” —Pablo Neruda (via floralnymph)