Year of Air

Age 17.

Welcome to the mess.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

alonesomes:

that moment when you read a poem and think “that’s it. that’s the poem I was trying to write. there it is.”

(via thedoctorwhomustnotbenamed)

herstrionics:

dreamin’ that “steal my girl” will actually be “you can’t steal my girl because she’s not mine, she’s not yours, she’s not an object at all, she does who and what she pleases, let’s all take a minute to celebrate her autonomy”

not, like, getting my hopes up about it. just dreamin’

(via -hewastheirfriend)

cateyesandthickthighs:

Kiss my hands and I’ll melt for you.

(via superwhitegirlproblems)

scottishshortbread:

kmykmykmy:

Gryffindor: I’m a fucking hero.
Slytherin: I’m fucking badass.
Ravenclaw: I’m smart as fuck.
Hufflepuff: My dorm is near the kitchen.

image

(via uss-enterpants)

fear13less:

Taylor is going to make me go to the movies to subway and target what else do you have in mind Taylor cause I have about $3 left

(via tay-sway)

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