I don’t have a favorite season. I have a favorite feeling. It’s the windows down, silent back roads with dirty bare feet feeling. It’s when I can walk straight outside without pausing to fish out a jacket. It is curtains dancing around my room because of the cool breeze that pushes against its fabric. It is sunsets after dessert and grass as my pillow. The sound of lawnmowers, falling leaves, and rain against the window. Pockets of shade and walks along a gravel road.
— (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
I swear I’m okay. I’m just tired. And no, not just the kind of tired where I’ve had a long day, but the kind of tired where I slept for 7 hours last night, and yet, I feel as though I haven’t had a good night’s rest in months. The kind of tired where taking a deep breath feels like carrying twice my body weight. The kind of tired where I feel as though I’ve been searching for you as if you were the last piece of buried treasure on this earth. The kind of tired that I fear no amount of sleep can ever cure.
Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward…
— E.E. Cummings (via introspectivepoet)