I miss the good old days where you used to be able to edit simple profile info on the tumblr app

like…my bio kind of says I’m still in high school.

"Such was a poet and shall be and is
-who’ll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam’s architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain’s heartbeat in his hand."

— e.e. cummings (via observando)


Found in my Star Wars journal

Dear Boy,

I know how to drive stick shift now. Maybe not in the mountains, but Tallahassee does have hills. Maybe they’re Florida hills. It’s something.

I wonder if you thought I’d never learn since you never taught me. I wonder if you’d be proud.

Dear Boy,

I’m in college now. I’m an English major. My focus will be on creative writing. You probably think that’s useless. You probably think I’ll never get a job. You probably think that I’m useless. I hope you threw all of my letters away, because they were some of my best, most passionate work and you don’t deserve to own them. They’ll be worth a lot of money one day, and I want you to be sorry.

Dear Boy,

I hope one day, everything stops going right for you. I hope one day you’ll wake up soaked in regret.

The weather is here. Don’t come visit.




forever so happy that Leslie Knope didn’t leave Pawnee.


(Source: illuminology)


• Welcome to winter


• Welcome to winter


December Love


In these last days of November
I’ve been challenged love to spread
So let me tell of fiery ember,
Christmas trees, and gingerbread.
For when days grow cold and colder
All our hassles come to rest
As a wiser and much older
Spirit comes to be our guest.
And as firs are evergreen
So our love we celebrate
And for once it might be seen
That our hearts can still be great.
    Celebrate, but do remember:
    Let your love outlive December.

"Wool socks and chapped hands. Winter creeping in around the pines. Well hearts and better food. Tired laughs. Maps and lists and letters. I crave someones voice reading Psalms and their wrist carelessly placed over my ankle. Dogeared days. Plans and plans and plans. And oh the places. All of them. Paris. Prague. Scotland. Your back porch. Hiccups in the middle of the bar. Wrinkles forming around my eyes that haven’t even seen half of it all yet. A yearlong walkabout that ends in your arms. A hello that has been waiting for ages. A goodbye that was never bothered to be said. Blankets that smell like fires and promises that burn. Frozen breath and forgotten lovers. Truth be told, I am selfish. I will consume my life like a king but cherish like a beggar."

— b.e.fitzgerald (the wants of a restless girl)

(Source: befitzgeraldwriting, via befitzgeraldwriting)



maggie and millie and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and

millie befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.


Eric Whitacre’s setting of the poem from The City and the Sea.


Breathe by Amanda Katherine Ricketson


Breathe by Amanda Katherine Ricketson