A few times in my life I’ve had moments of absolute clarity, when for a few brief seconds the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think, and things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them, but like everything, they fade. I have lived my life on these moments. They pull me back to the present, and I realize that everything is exactly the way it was meant to be.

(Source: i-would-prefer-not-too)

(Source: synodik)

(Source: theunlikelyrobot)

(Source: hargitayy)

f0o0od:

Strawberry Cheesecake Tart

serg-escoto:

#tweegram #motivation (Taken with instagram)

(Source: calmandsherlocked)

In general hab ich wirklich keine lust. 

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

1. Because I gave you my number and that took so much courage/five glasses of wine! I don’t usually give my number out to anyone unless we’ve already been making out at the bar or something. And even then, I’m still like, “Gee, I know they had my hand down my pants but I’m not sure if they like me…”
2. Because I need to see you naked and in order for that to happen, you need to call me. Just pick up that phone and start dialing. My naked body will be waiting for you on the other end of the line.
3. Because I want somebody to eat chips and guacamole with after work. I want to come home and see you there on the couch ready to eat and watch TV with me. I mean, I don’t know you, but if you call me, I hope you’ll be someone I can watch TV with.
4. Because I need you to let me know that I’m not dead inside. I need to know that I can still connect with another person and giving you my number made me feel the most alive I’ve felt in months so I figure we’re off to a good start.
5. Because a month ago, I got terribly sick and no one was around to take care of me. I had a vision of my future, single and alone and puking, and it scared me straight. When I told you to “call me maybe,” what I really meant to say was, “hold my hair back when I’m puking please.” If you call me, I promise not to puke though.
6. Because my therapist told me to “put myself out there more” and I trust her because she has long flowing hair and lives in a co-op in Chelsea. If you called me, you’d be really helping me out with my progress in therapy. It’d get her off my back at least and for that I’d be eternally grateful.
7. Because I’m nice and funny and smart and a good kisser and I will go down on you because I’ll want to celebrate your penis, which is an extension of you, and I’ll pick out the peanuts in your pad thai because you might be allergic (JK, I won’t do that), and I’ll love your body regardless of what it looks like or if it’s my type because a dick is a dick and an ass is an ass, and I’ll make you listen to my weird music, which you’ll find charming, and I don’t know. You should call me maybe because we could have fun. Everyone needs to have fun, right?
8. Because I’m someone who’s worth loving. I’m someone who’s worth disrupting your little life routine for. Call me maybe and we’ll get to talk and meet up in person and kiss and have sex and gush to our friends about each other and go to parties and leave together hand-in-hand and fall asleep in the cab back to our home. You can’t have any of this without the phone call though. It all begins there. 

He realized now that to be afraid of this death he was staring at with animal terror meant to be afraid of life. Fear of dying justified a limitless attachment to what is alive in man. And all those who had not made the gestures necessary to live their lives, all those who feared and exalted impotence— they were afraid of death because of the sanction it gave to a life in which they had not been involved. They had not lived enough, never having lived at all. And death was a kind of gesture, forever withholding water from the traveler vainly seeking to slake his thirst. But for the others, it was the fatal and tender gesture that erases and denies, smiling at gratitude as at rebellion.

(Source: l-incertitudemetourmente)

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me, there lay an invincible summer.