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“All Too Well” was never a single, and it always blows my mind that it is consistently one of the loudest songs the crowd sings when I play it. Moments like this defined the Reputation Stadium Tour for me, and I can’t wait for you to see it in full starting at 12:01 AM December 31, pacific
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Day One Or Never.
July 20.
I went out of the house. An achievement I guess ’cause I always locked myself in surrounded by eletronic devices, tv, cellphone, laptop.
I helped someone out of nowhere. I talked. I started hearing my own voice once again. I’m alive. Still breathing.
I walked through the small street in our place. Slippery, yet fascinating. I laughed. I’m being myself.
Gone to my uncle’s house. They let…
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“Careful not to get so deep in your thoughts you lose your mind”
— Sandra // @ambushing
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I was afraid of my own thoughts and the thoughts behind my thoughts.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (via wordsnquotes)
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You must learn to let go. Release the stress. You were never in control anyway.
Steve Maraboli (via wordsnquotes)
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My love, Don’t be distressed that those boys don’t notice you, The way your brown eyes light up when you’re happy, Drowning you in a wave of joy, The way your hair falls across your shoulders like a sheet of black silk fit for a queen. The way your heart bursts into a song every time you accomplish something you worked hard for. Don’t expect those boys, the ones who try to figure you out in one conversation, to understand you. Don’t expect those boys who just want your body to ever understand you. You’re so complex, so goddamn intricate, Your soul is like a labyrinth, Winding and unending, It will take eons to figure you out. Only the best explorer would be able to, Only the most persistent explorer is meant to. He wont come into your life like a hurricane, Not like everyone else you’ve ever liked, Because all they have done is leave you in the midst of destruction, left you drowning in a flood of your tears, Making you feel that loving a natural disaster is something you can’t resist. Something that compels you to breathe. He will come in like a soft breeze, Which is heavy with premonition, Caressing your cheeks gently, He will enter your labyrinth of a heart, Walking through it, He won’t need a map, Because he’s been here, in another lifetime, The familiarity of your souls isn’t just a coincidence. He won’t even need a flashlight, For he is the sun, Blazing with passion and a furious need to unravel all your layers, He will walk slowly, with more purpose than he could ever muster in a lifetime, Drinking in each painting, Each milestone you’ve ever crossed, Each person you’ve loved before him without a hint of jealousy, just curiosity, Each petal of violets that decorate your heart, Each word of poetry you’ve ever written or read, And each song that blares from the record player that sits in the middle of the labyrinth. He will memorize the way your soul dances when its happy, The colors it comprises of, Every shade of green and ultraviolet, He will sleep beneath the cover of the stars of your heart, Curled up, Breathing gently. And when he rises, rubbing traces of sleep from his soft, breathtaking green eyes, Your heart will fill up with his warmth, Every fibre of his being lighting up every inch of you, Inside out. He will clutch the broken parts of your soul, And try to mend them back together with his undying, infinite love, He will find all your insecurities shoved in a corner, And coax them out, After which he will gently caress them, Kiss them, And set them free, Far away from your soul, Leaving nothing but stardust in their place. He will inject humor into the sad, empty parts of your soul, Quieten the inconsolable sadness that sits heavy and deep inside you, And never let you drown in it again, For he is your life boat. He will carry your fears to the softest bed with satin sheets, And gently sing them to sleep which they will never wake from. He will make you feel like the goddamn interstellar sky you are. He won’t be impatient to get to know you, He will want to drink you in like the finest glass of wine, The most celebrated art museum, Or the most profound poetry book. Savoring every sip, Every glance, Every moment you’ve ever spent together, From start to finish. This is the boy you were meant to have, To love, To hold, To have those lazy daydreams about, To write endlessly about, Your muse forever. This is the boy who is meant to have you, Who is worthy enough to become the keeper of your breathtaking soul, To love you, And to never, ever let you go.
thewriterthatnobodynoticed, we are meant for bigger things// 20:05 (via wnq-writers)
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Talking to people is so upsetting. Not talking to people is just as upsetting. What am I to do?
creatingnikki (via wnq-writers)
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Until I learn to love myself I can’t expect others to.
ingurgitate-me (via wnq-writers)
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Sometimes you just have to swing your arms freely with no hand to hold and never be ashamed to have dance parties alone.
eamnella (via wnq-writers)
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You see me as one of your roses, dripping with blood, wilting in your beautiful hands. You plucked me from the endless field of extraordinary women because I am ordinary and insecure and an easy target, and I will forever despise you for your cruelty. I wonder how many other flowers are choking in vases, wishing they had fought to stay in fields of grass instead of being imprisoned in glass castles, envied but unloved.
chalk-box (via wnq-writers)
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I’ve had my heart broken enough times to know that I would rather break every bone in my body than have my heart broken again.
thedemonkings // Letters to Myself (via wnq-writers)
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I feel safe in my sadness and that scares me.
meliseeeex (via wnq-writers)
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You don’t have to impress people. If they don’t like you, you don’t have to. If they do, you don’t need to.
askpristin (via wnq-writers)
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I don’t need anyone to save me, I’m going to save myself.
thedemonkings // Letters to me (via wnq-writers)
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I read poetry. Because nothing makes me feel more complete, Than my suffering to be understood, By people I don’t even know.
Katrien Pauwels // What’s a writer without the pain? (via wnq-writers)
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Hoping that things will get better is one thing. Recreating yourself when things get worse is another.
juansendizon (via wnq-writers)
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Love is a beautiful feeling until it crashes and burns; then, it suffocates leaving you with nowhere to run or to turn.
dreamerthinkerwisher (via wnq-writers)
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