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Showing posts from December, 2014
Ironically though, I actually word a lot of things the wrong way and they come out all wrong and not in the sense I want them to be or in any way I meant and it ruins everything and this is poop.

On the edge of 2014 and jumping into 2015 (Pt.1)

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I'd like to dedicate this post to the good times of 2014 and making it a giant throwback (despite it not being Thursday)


[Abana Reef]

[Banana boat riding after a good dive session]

[Celebrating my 18th with beloved grandparents']

[Good food with good company]

[First wreck dive]

 [Adriana's 18th]

[I just really like this photo]

[Last day of college]
These are little clippings from my 2014 which has been relatively good to me, of course there are many more but let's leave that for further posts.
Late night barefoot walking. Fingertips kisses. Finishing A Levels. Good food. Good music. Good company. New friends. Sunkissed skin. Swimming for 6 hours straight. Poolside burgers and spaghetti. Turning 18. Last Hobbit movie. Oliver. First time driving an Austin Mini. Smiley kisses. Half asleep in Chemistry class. A.
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Isn’t this what trust looks like? Isn’t it how I am always skin and emotions for you?

On killings and equality

what bothers me immensely is that it just seems to matter less. people aren’t as open or as furious when talking about it. when little brown boys and little brown girls are being shot in a place where they’re supposed to be safe and protected you should be fucking outraged, you should be heartbroken. these little babies went to school today and they expected to see their mama’s again and they’re not going to be able to do that and if that’s not intensely heartbreaking and worth being angry about, i don’t know what is.I do not know how many murderous atrocities against innocent Muslim children it will take for the world to understand that the taliban does not stand for Muslims, that their agenda does not protect Muslims. They are killing them. They are killing them. They are killing them and the world is trying to categorize the murdered and the mourning with the same people that are trying their hardest to wipe them out.How many Muslim children have to be lined up and executed by the …
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Children recite prayers for those who were lost during the Peshawar attacks.
Let’s do this one thing for each other, here it goes: I have seen the good in you and the bad in you and I will try my hardest to always love them both. When there are days that I cannot love you like I should, I will stay. I will stay. I will straighten my shoulders, take your battle and I will stay.

Be soft, kind and loving. But also take nobody’s shit.

NOT YOURS.

NEVER WAS.
How to break this to you gently, you thought he was the sun but he wasn’t. I’m sorry that you loved him as much as you did and that he betrayed you. You were so open and honest and full. You were like grass in a drought, wanting his love so badly that you weren’t willing to see that he’s not the rain. He’s the reason for your thirst. He’s the reason that your lungs feel like they’re closing up. And he didn’t know how to be loyal to you, that’s the biggest tragedy of all. Maybe it was because he’d never learned the meaning of loving someone so fully that you can’t see anyone else. Don’t you want to be the pinnacle? Don’t you want to be the only thing he’s ever going to see again? You deserve that kind of longing, you really do and I’m heartbroken that he doesn’t respect you enough to let you decide. You’re more than his brand of coward love. I want to take you by the shoulders and tell you that I loved him too and that it wasn’t worth it. It’s never going to be worth it. Not for someon…
You are Jane Eyre: both soft and wild. You believe in God, but not a belittling angry one. Your God is bigger. Truer. You love like crazy, so human, with your whole self, but you won't take less than that either. You'll fly away if someones tries to put a cage around you. It's all or nothing. You can't love with half your heart: you'll take a heart in return, and then you'll never know which one was yours. It won't matter, really. You'll help each other find the light: it was with you all along.

First generation immigrants | Ijeoma Umebinyuo

Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Her…
Tip: don’t let your loneliness send you running back into the arms of someone who was never right or good to you.
we do so well apart
it’s not real
every meeting is a honeymoon
it’s not real
every goodbye isn’t final
it’s not real