Only the things you no longer have will always be perfect.
Yet you still value the things you’ve lost the most. Because the things you’ve lost are still perfect in your head. They never rusted. They never broke. They are made of the memories you once had, which only grow rosier and brighter, day by day. They are made of the dreams of how wonderful things could have been and must never suffer the indignity of actually still existing. Of being real. Of having flaws. Of breaking and deteriorating.
Sometimes, the world will try and convince you that dying is the most polite thing you could do.
If you’re strong enough to take those pills and swallow them when no one’s home.
If you’re strong enough to tie that rope and hang it from the ceiling fan.
If you’re strong enough to jump off that bridge, my friend.
You are strong enough, to live.
So doggawn impressionable.
There are more grains of sand in the soles of your shoes than you will be given winters to dream or summers to make those dreams real.
And there are more stars in the sky than there are grains of sand on Earth.
We live in a universe so big that a dying star, in the greater scheme of things, is as significant as spilled milk or an unkissed kiss. In an infinite amount of time, everything that can be forgotten, will be forgotten.
In infinity, spilled milk and dying stars matter the same.
And if you’re just someone brushing your teeth late at night or you’re a planet breathing your last breath as you disappear into a black hole, everything you do matters just the same. Every breath you take is as important or unimportant as the sun in the sky or the moon in the night.
Scratching your ear, is a kind of miracle, depending on how you look at it.
Can’t find anything interesting on Tumblr.
It’s all reblogs of that “Save the sex-trafficked girls” and SoA.
Then again, I’ve just been completely “blah” since yesterday night.
Beatin’ that number one team.