Fear not the darkness, only that which lives in it.

I shoved my palm against the open mouth of autumn and pressed down hard enough to feel its teeth cutting into flesh. I leaned in really close, and asked if it worried about too much heat.

Odd lessons learned through conversations with strangers — mostly about myself. Yesterday’s revelation involved a keen sense of personal fatalism that forces me into action, flipping over monopoly tables and the…

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Soul-mates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re the ones who make you feel you the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pains and pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.

Victoria Erickson (via infamoussayings)

(via rightsideofthedream)