aseaofquotes:

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

cereza37:

Charlie Brown — Coldplay 

I saw the lights go down and they’re standing in front of me
In my scarecrow dreams
When they smashed my heart into smithereens
I’ll be a bright red rose combusting the concrete
Be the cartoon heart
Light a fire a fire a spark
Light a fire a flame in my heart
We’ll run wild
We’ll be glowing in the dark

(via lunasunflower)

(Source : magicmanula, via cvcisme)

(via lisacuracao)

(via thingssheloves)

(Source : almeja-r, via virar)

sometimes the words they fail
and leave you on the edge
of something so close to
greatness, touching upon
infinity.
but they scramble and scatter and
it’s almost like forgetting the words
to your favorite song,
forgetting you have a voice.
words, words,
they’re only letters put together
and after all this time i’ve tried and tried
and i’ve found that i can never
say a damn thing to you anymore.

sometimes you just have to take a step back, be brave, and believe it.

(via thingssheloves)

(Source : stalecigarettes, via ther3negade)

(Source : censual, via danicool)

to a best friend from a past life,

you were always a summer soul with a heart too big for your chest. but that heart turned cold like an ice box and then you became somebody that i used to know. and you hated the cold, even though you were a november baby. and i remember the way the leaves used to fall in the woods by your house every november, up until that one last time, and i never saw any of you again. i didn’t know that there would ever be a last time. and i still don’t know how, but one day we just grew up and grew apart and i didn’t know how broken we had become. you were good at picking up and moving your life. and i was the one who couldn’t ever let go. you changed, but i couldn’t bring myself to let go of the person i used to know when we were young and nothing and everything mattered.

i guess a part of me will never accept that you walked away from eight years of promises and secrets, and you never looked back. a part of me will always remember all of the beautiful times and wonder if you remember them too. like the days of exploring places we’d never seen behind the trees, and dancing in the hot rain, and laughing until we swore the atmosphere had run out of air, and crying and singing and bikes and radios and all those goddamn letters we used to write that probably never meant a thing. and if they did, you changed.

and a part of me will always wonder if there was something i could’ve done to stop this, to stop you from becoming a stranger. i guess what hurts most is knowing that you let yourself become that stranger and i couldn’t stop you. but despite what you turned into, you’ll always be that person who shaped me and i’ll never forget you because you were the first person i trusted and the first person to leave me behind. i’m sorry, i forgive you, and i’ll never forget.

thecurrentrotation:

“Lights” by Ellie Goulding

You show the lights that stop me, turn to stone
You shine it when I’m alone
And so I tell myself that I’ll be strong
And dreaming when they’re gone
‘Cause they’re calling, calling, calling me home
Calling, calling, calling home

(Source : moonlight-driive, via ther3negade)

i’ve realized that no one really knows anyone’s stories anymore. we are all born of fire, born of passion, and no one knows a thing about it. no one ever stops to listen to the tales of scars and secrets that make up a person’s being. but they meant everything, and they mean everything and people don’t know how to listen. they don’t listen to their own stories and they don’t know anyone else’s. they don’t know what to do with all the fire inside so they pretend it doesn’t exist. but we are all that’s around us, we’re all that’s inside us. and no one shares anything anymore.

but i just want to know everything. because the stories, they tell more than just a singular tale. they tell of the passion of a person’s core. and i don’t want to miss that one crucial story that could change everything.

how many people have stood right here, on this same exact street? what did they have to lose? how many people have been broken to pieces in the heat of a broken, free american summer? in the heat of a moment, one single beautiful moment. where are they now? and the streets and the summers and the eyes and bones and all the nameless faces - they make up your stories and scars and secrets and that is crucial enough.

i guess i’m just trying to find some passion and some meaning and there are too many places to start and i want to inhale them all because i just want to be a part of something bigger.