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Τα ηλιοβασιλέματα είναι σαν τους ανθρώπους.Όσο κι αν θες να μείνουν,κάποια στιγμή θα φύγουν.
Ø
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κουράστηκα να περιμένω ανθρώπους να έρθουν,καταστάσεις να αλλάξουν και αναπάντεχα γεγονότα να έρθουν..
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Δεν έχουν σημασία τα τέλεια δόντια και τα όμορφα χείλη. Αν το χαμόγελό σου είναι αληθινό, είναι το ομορφότερο του κόσμου.
Χαμ(ό)γ(έ)λα. (via gkizinaki)
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Και μένω εκει. Μπροστα στην τοση αχαλίνωτη ομορφιά αυτης της θεας και αναρωτιέμαι αν στα αλήθεια υπάρχει κατι, το οτιδήποτε, που να είναι πιο όμορφο απο αυτο.
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Μου χάρισες βραδιά που κοιμήθηκα χαμογελώντας με τη σκέψη σου
και αλλά πάλι που ευχόμουν να μη ξυπνησω το επόμενο πρωί.
(via axnee)
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Διαδρομη.
Να ταξιδεύεις. Από μέρος σε μέρος. Από άνθρωπο σε άνθρωπο.
Να ταξιδεύεις. Να γνωρίζεις κόσμο, συνήθειες, μέρη, συναισθήματα.
Να ταξιδεύεις. Να πηγαίνεις παντού. Να μην έχεις όρια και ενδοιασμούς.
Να ταξιδεύεις. ��χι επειδή θέλεις να φύγεις από κάπου, αλλά επειδή έχεις κάπου να πας.
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You don’t deserve me.
23 June, 2017
You don’t deserve my love. You don’t deserve my heartache. You don’t deserve my tears. You don’t deserve my time. You don’t deserve my my happiness. You don’t deserve my loyalty. You don’t deserve my caring. You don’t deserve my friendship. You don’t deserve my reassurance. You don’t deserve the whole of me. You don’t deserve the broken pieces of me. You don’t deserve me.
And you don’t deserve hers either.
But you have them all.
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Never get too attached to anyone unless they also feel the same towards you, because one sided expectations can mentally destroy you.
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We had a silent connection, unnoticed by most. We seemed oblivious to each other, but the magnetic pull between us existed. What perfect strangers we make now. We pulled the magnets far enough apart to barely feel their tug.
it’s almost as if we’ve never spoken (via multa--paucis)
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I’ve gotten into the habit of filling my journal with sketches and beautiful quotes. - “You don’t tell people you’re not okay,“ she said, “because it’s hard watching them not know what to do. “Then you end up comforting them, even though the one who needed comforting was you. S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #222
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It starts like this: She’s sitting across from you, and you’re watching her like you may never see her again. You study her every detail in hopes of burning the shape of her lips and the curve of her face into your memory, but you know the minute that you look away, she will become a blurred outline of the girl you remembered. It’s like you spent so much time painting this perfect picture of her, and the moment you step away, you plunge the canvas underwater, and the paint rises, and it falls apart. She’s no longer perfect, and who are you kidding? You never were an artist, but like I said, it starts like this: She’s sitting across from you, and you’re sitting across from her, and you can’t help thinking that she could be the next goddamn Picasso, but she would never pick up a brush or even attempt to mold clay into the shape of your jaw or the slope of your nose. You both know that memories fade and the paint will peel, but she’ll forever be a mess of reds and yellows smeared across a blank wall in your mind, and you’ll make her a glorified fucking masterpiece while you’re still an empty sheet of paper with no potential and no desire to be filled. So take a deep breath because it ends like this: You’ll look down at your hands, and they’ll be covered with the colors that she was, and she’ll stand up, and she will walk away from you, and her hands will be clean. And it’s not her fault that she never wanted to paint, and it’s not your fault that you don’t have a damned clue how to hold a brush. Some things just are, and with her, you are not.
H.L. // excerpt from a book I’ll never write #39 // the eye of the beholder (via 451seconds)
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