"People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires."


My style is black and it’s expensive

(via sofuckingphysical)


We’ve officially reached that annoying time of year where it’s sweater weather in the morning, but by midday you die from a heatstroke.

(via p4isley)


He was like that hot stove your parents told you not to touch as a child. Every part of you screamed that you shouldn’t, but the curiosity still ate away at you didn’t it? It didn’t matter if people told you it would burn. You had to find out for yourself.

So you touched. And it was scalding.

Except, unlike with the stove, you didn’t jerk away. You only fell further into him. You let his flames consume you, wisping up your neck, singeing your hair, scorching your skin.

For awhile it felt like he had set you both alight. You were both fire. A ravenous, beautiful, tumbling blaze. So in sync, yet so out of control. You craved him, didn’t you?

So how did it feel when you realized that you both weren’t made of flames? That maybe one of you was just kindling?

Honey, fires were meant to die out. That is their nature.

Fire is weak.

Fire disappears at the slightest sight of water.
Fire is greedy. Fire just consumes and consumes until there’s nothing left.
Fire destroys.

And I know it hurts to breathe, but you’ve got to remember that Fire can’t even hold its breath, because it dies within seconds.

You are so much stronger than that which burned you.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been reduced to embers or ashes.
While the fire has ceased to exist, you are still here.


Maybe When the Smoke Clears, You’ll Understand.


(via sidewayserenade)

(via sofuckingphysical)

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