morsmordre  
release the dark mark
A smooth sea never made a skillful sailor. Δ

Laine. Fifteen. Slytherin.

la hija del capitán
 wizard(s) on my page ☆


this

posted 4 weeks ago on 21 April 2013 WITH 15 notes »reblog

Nicholas SparksNights in Rodanthe

posted 4 weeks ago on 21 April 2013 WITH 7 notes »reblog

Then the night you’ve been waiting for comes and suddenly your dream isn’t a dream anymore, it’s a reality. It’s all around you like something you always knew would happen.

Margaret Willey; Facing The Music  

posted 1 month ago on 26 March 2013 WITH 6 notes »reblog

posted 1 month ago on 23 March 2013 WITH 28 notes »reblog

posted 1 month ago on 23 March 2013 WITH 11 notes »reblog

posted 1 month ago on 22 March 2013 WITH 3 notes »reblog

I’d be more of a morning person if I got to wake up next to you.


posted 2 months ago on 17 March 2013 WITH 18 notes »reblog

posted 2 months ago on 17 March 2013 WITH 6 notes »reblog

Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night’s sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too.


posted 2 months ago on 15 March 2013 WITH 14 notes »reblog

We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything. In his eyes, there was no trace of what had happened between us earlier and I could feel something inside me break.
So that was that. We were finally, finally over.
I looked at him, and I felt so sad, because this thought occurred to me: ‘I will never look at you the same way again. I’ll never be that girl again. The girl who comes running back every time you push her away, the girl who loves you anyway.’
I couldn’t even be mad at him, because this was who he was. This was who he’d
always been. He’d never lied about that. He gave and then he took away. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, the familiar ache, that lost, regretful feeling only he could give me. I never wanted to feel it again. Never, ever.
Maybe this was why I came, so I could really know. So I could say good-bye.
I looked at him, and I thought, ‘If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.’
I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway.
‘I release you. I evict you from my heart. Because if I don’t do it now, I never will.’
I was the one to look away first.

Jenny Han, It’s Not Summer Without You