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Ladybug in the morning dew

this raspberry is weird colours…
"Be someone’s Sunday, not Saturday night."(via frazzledfran)

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If Hazel died.

Hazel Grace died today.
Her lungs were drowning, she was drowning in herself.
She was a prisoner in her own body,
But during her short life she knew that she had lived.
She knew I was in love with her.
That night I knew what I needed to do.
I walked, I didn’t know where or how, but I ended up at her house.
I sat where the swing set used to be, and looked up at her old window.
I slowly opened my pocket and revealed my pack of cigarettes that had lasted me the year, I took one and stuck it in my mouth.
I sat there for some time, thinking and dreaming to have one more wish.
To bring Hazel Grace back.
But I knew that would never happen.
I knew she was dead.
I was dead.
I slowly took out my cigarette.
And lit it.

official-amy (via official-amy)

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Ansel Elgort and Andreea Diaconu for Vogue.
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🌴 http://t0p4z.tumblr.com 🌴


Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.

You know he is a symbol of your weakness, your Kryptonite. How he rushes in like wildfire and burns through everything you worked so hard to build since he last left you in ashes.

Lang Leav (Signposts, Lullabies)

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I don’t need alcohol to make bad decisions

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