We’re inevitable, Waldorf.
The truth is our job isn’t always great and sometimes it sucks. But it sucks a little less when I get to do it with you.
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming."
- Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them (via dishevelment)
Happy National Women’s Day!
(A woman can preach, a woman can work, a woman can fight. A woman can build, can rule, can conquer, can destroy just as much as a man can.)
[sorry if your favorites are not included, I was going mainly for human women, or human-like women. So, no animals in this set. Also there is over 30 gifs. I couldn’t fit them all anyways.]
You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles.
And it’s funny, in a moment like that, when what’s really happening is too intense to deal with, sometimes it’s best to leave it unspoken, and just enjoy each other’s company instead.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us.