And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.

The Chaos of Stars (Kiersten White)

We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Let our scars fall in love.

Galway Kinnell (via hqlines)


a letter to myself:

So what, you called in sick to work, you shed a few fake tears, you skipped lunch with a friend to dust your coffee table and clean your sheets. So what. You aren’t the only person in the world who has taken a shower with plans to go out but end up changing your mind when you look in the mirror and think, “I’m tired. I want to sit here and write tonight.” Listen here, you aren’t the only person who enjoys a night sitting under christmas lights writing instead of going out.

You feel like the people who dial the wrong number and call you might actually have something to say. Like the time some lady in Ohio accidentally left a voicemail on your phone saying, “Happy Birthday, Trish. I hope God blesses you today.” Remember when you called that lady back and said, “I’m not Trish but you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” You aren’t the calls that you ignore, you aren’t the calls that never came, the calls you stare at your phone waiting for. You aren’t somebody’s second choice, their “go to”, their “maybe in the future we can try.” Turn off your phone. Only listen to the voicemails left by accidental calls.

You are more than your favorite dress..the black one with the white polka dots. You are more than the body you try to hide, the cleavage you try to cover, the stretch marks on your hips from eating too much ice-cream that summer. You have no self confidence and I don’t know why. Maybe because people tell you all the time how beautiful you are and you are the only person in this god damn world that doesn’t see it. If you could see yourself smile I swear you’d believe it.

You spend too much time waiting for the future, thinking that when you get the degree, when the seasons change, when you get that promotion your life will begin. You stupid girl, you’ve wasted a year waiting for life to begin. You naive beautiful thing, you’ve wasted so many minutes dreaming about life that you haven’t given yourself a minute to open the front door, leave your house and fucking live it.

Sincerely, Me//d.a.h (via whisperingbones)