Ra--na - Ra--na

Demons within an angel

With tears streaming down her face, she grips my shirt with the last of her strength. In that moment, I had never seen eyes that looked so tired, so devoid of hope. “I can’t keep doing this… I don’t have it in me to keep going on” she whispers, crying into my chest. All of time seemed to slow to a near stand still while I tried to keep the one thing that gave me purpose from giving up on herself. “Fix me. Please don’t let me stay broken. Fix me. I don’t want to be broken. Fix me. Fix me” she repeated like a mantra, almost like it was the only way she kept her sanity. I held her, trying to soothe and silence the demons within this angel. Nothing could be heard by my ears except her now painfully quiet sobs and the screaming voice begging to be heard. The voice that stood alone, screaming at the top of its lungs. Only a single voice that howled, “I’m broken too”.

You know when dogs sit outside with their face turned towards the sun and their eyes closed and they look so relaxed and when you pet them they’re warm that’s how I want to feel always

1. You look at a map of a city you’ve never been to. You see patterns and street names and they tell you nothing. The map remains dead, the city unknown. 2. You go to the city you’ve never been to. It becomes a city you know. 3. You look at a map of a city you’ve been to, but have left behind. As you look at the map, you remember. You are looking at nostalgia. You walk through street names and remember the taste of cake in the café whose name you forgot, but you remember its yellow walls and comfy chairs. A square is no longer four lines on a map, but an open space with people and statues and laughter and a fountain in the center. The monotonous, two-dimensional blue that indicates an ocean turns into postcard memories, so many shades of blue and green and the smell of salt and fish. The famous building with the famous name that everyone knows is now a personal experience, it is yours and yours alone in a way that will never make it anyone else’s. A billion feet have walked these (now familiar) paths and two of them were yours. You can trace the steps you have taken and you remember feelings and colours and strangers who offered you a smile. There is the hostel you slept in, there is the river you crossed so many times, there is the corner where you listened to the most amazing street musician. You fondly whisper street names that you had trouble pronouncing when you first spoke them, clumsily. You connect dots, and they turn to images in your head. The map is alive, the city an old friend. 4. The map you look at is always the same; the perception is different. It is you who has changed.

p.s. // every time i look at a map I have a feeling that is hard to put into words (via sleevesofgrass)

Look, there are some people you’re just always going to be a little bit in love with. Your high school sweet heart, your college sweet heart, prince zuko, the first significant other you live with. Just accept that it’s normal and move on.

Isn’t it strange that we talk least about the things we think about most?

Charles Lindbergh (via quotemadness)

All I want is for my room to be clean, my grades to be good, and my ships to be cannon.

I just met you, but I know I want to love you forever, and I’m scared you won’t feel the same.

// excerpt from a book I’ll never write #13 (via poetrypriincess)

I’m scared of everything. And I’m crazy. Like maybe you think I’m a little crazy, but I only ever let people see the tip of my crazy iceberg. Underneath this veneer of slightly crazy and socially inept, I’m a complete disaster.

Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl (via quotasia)