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Posted on March 22, 2011 via Audrey Hepburn Complex with 334 notes
Source: audreyhepburncomplex
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(by yu+ichiro)
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Jensen Ackles or JGL | asked by robin-sparkles, paradi
Ellen Page or JGL | asked by gayjamesbond, toosluttytofunction
Timothy Olyphant or JGL | asked by toosluttytofunction
James Franco or JGL | asked by teatimewithmadhatter, troll
Lindsey McKeon or JGL | asked by trolloh my, gorgeous!
(via madeofglass)
Posted on March 20, 2011 via She who shall not be named. with 639 notes
Source: fearthereaper
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(via fieldsofinnocence)
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we were not as lucky… it was raining all day and all night. :(
(via cacaococoa)
Posted on March 20, 2011 via CacaoCocoa with 50 notes
Source: Flickr / geninne
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The hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong id write you another letter. But I never sent them, in fear of what I might find. By then, you’d gone on with your life and I didn’t want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn’t want to ever forget that.
(via backtoaugust)Posted on March 20, 2011 via back to august
Source: backtoaugust
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You want me to act like we’ve never kissed, you want to forget; pretend we’ve never met , and I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I haven’t yet… You walk by, and I fall to pieces.
Patsy Cline (via backtoaugust)Posted on March 20, 2011 via back to august with 2 notes
Source: backtoaugust
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We didn’t talk about anything heavy or light. We were just there, together. And that was enough.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower (via backtoaugust)Posted on March 3, 2011 via back to august with 1 note
Source: backtoaugust
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And so, I wait because you have already left and my work here, is done. I wait and wonder how my skin feels like it’s made of love letters written a hundred years too soon (too late). I wonder at the mystery of life and how much of it can possibly remain. I wonder at pain and hurt and love and time and how much of each I held. I wonder at how I cannot remember anything in my life before I met you. I wonder at the tiniest of touches and try, desperately, to keep their memories alive. I wonder at loneliness. I wonder at how long it’ll be, before I see you again. I wait. And I wonder.
I wrote this for you (via backtoaugust)Posted on March 3, 2011 via back to august
Source: backtoaugust
visions of times square to woodside and everything in between and beyond.
