I am ready to leave this place. Forget about everyone I know. Pack up and disappear. I am tired of the memories that linger around every corner of the meaningless routine that is draining my soul away. I am ready to go. No goodbyes or explanations. I am ready to start over.

(via iwishtheseweremywords)

The Way It Is by William Stafford

journalofanobody:


There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.


Me llene de pensar
y por mi mente solo corre tu piel
y se enciende mi sangre corre descontrolada
y no dejas de salpicar
hasta dejar me manchada
con tu imagen en mis palpados
no puedo dormir
porque solo te veo
con tu piel abierta
gota a gota
desvaneciendo
rendida a mis deseos de
desmoronar te
y consumir cada pedazo…
Me llene de pensar
y si te llamara
no estarias
quizás responderias
pero no vendrías
mis palabras te preñaran con
escalofrios
y te perderas en una realidad
adonde yo no quepo.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost (via henretta84)

This very second has vanished forever, lost in the anonymous mass of the irrevocable. It will never return. I suffer from this, and I do not. Everything is unique—and insignificant.

Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born (via tri-ciclo)

One moment I’m happy; next I’m miserable. I hate her for half an hour, then I’d give my whole life to be with her for ten minutes; all the time I don’t know what I feel, or why I feel it; it’s insanity, and yet it’s perfectly reasonable. Can you make any sense of it?

Virginia Woolf, Night And Day
(via poemusicoffee)