...let it do what it does

"What if I told you 10 years from now your life would be exactly the same?
Doubt you’d be happy.
So, why are you afraid of change?"
― Karen Salmansohn (via inhale—l0ve)

(Source: psych-quotes, via productofsweden)

— 3 hours ago with 5624 notes
flyestfemales:

sickened-soul:

what if what you love won’t stop hurting you…

flyestfemales  // insta: @omarsamira

flyestfemales:

sickened-soul:

what if what you love won’t stop hurting you…

flyestfemales  // insta: @omarsamira

(Source: crushinghurtss, via soldelmars)

— 4 days ago with 6124 notes

feat:

do you ever get sad over something that happened a long time ago because i do 

(via brittneygfrmdablock)

— 4 days ago with 284972 notes
norsis:

That image speaks friendship…www.nor-sis.com

norsis:

That image speaks friendship…

www.nor-sis.com

(Source: jakfruit, via oxosamara)

— 5 days ago with 49065 notes
"Healing is an art. It takes time, it takes practice. It takes love."
Maza-Dohta (via divinespirit)

(Source: maza-dohta, via dirtylittlestylewhoree)

— 5 days ago with 32918 notes
My therapist:Look at nature. Look at flowers. We never walk into our garden and say "Oh wouldn't that flower be so much more pretty if it were taller? Or red instead of pink?" No, we don't. Because nature was created perfect just as it is. And so are we. We are part of nature, we are how we're meant to be, we are perfect just as we are.
— 5 days ago with 363596 notes
"You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one."
Guidelines For Finding Someone Worthwhile (via aviolafyre)

(Source: lookingforsomeonewhocares, via shary-pie)

— 1 week ago with 112664 notes

housewifeswag:

ilikelivingintoday:

Kevin Durant talks about his mom during MVP speech.

yeah okay I’m ugly crying

(via ritzgrc)

— 1 week ago with 244361 notes
praxis89:

Orange in his Hand

I see two men sweat
at the exit
of the freeway.

One is brown and burnt
from the sun rays
the other is white
with an American Flag
stitched across his trucker hat.

They both wear dirty clothes.
They both burn 
to hold
a little green.

One sells oranges, walking up
and down the street. 
One holds a sign that reads,
“I’m hungry, help me eat.”
I feel for both of them,
but I only admire one.

The one who hands
oranges in bags to tired faces,
who chases cars
for his change,
who counts pennies
as profit
to keep his apartment.

The one whose wife wakes
before sunrise to walk
through Los Angeles streets
yelling “tamales, tamales”
with a 4 year old daughter 
at her side.

The mother who crossed over
4 years earlier so her daughter
wouldn’t have to sell tamales
with a baby at her side.

The father tells his son
never to beg,
but to work hard for the bread.
So the son sells Cheetos
at his high school
and gets called beaner
for not owning 
named brand clothes.
A son who must bring dollars
before good grades
because rent is two weeks late.
A son who will one day hold 
a gun to the head
of a liquor store clerk,
only to remember 
his father’s words.

Mijo, work hard for the bread.

Rent is two weeks late 
so the family
breaks tax laws to make jobs
and they lifts roses to the sky
hoping someone passing by
is falling in love again,
so the family
takes elotes
to the neighborhood projects
hoping the ninos are hungry.

The news says this family is here
to take my job, 
my seat in school, 
my country,
but the only thing they’re taking 
is the risk
of being handcuffed,
broken and deported
in the name of family
in the name of love
in the name of trying 
everything to stay above
the current
and that is why
I can’t help

But to admire the man
with an orange in his hand,
a fireball of hunger in his palm.

praxis89:

Orange in his Hand

I see two men sweat
at the exit
of the freeway.

One is brown and burnt
from the sun rays
the other is white
with an American Flag
stitched across his trucker hat.

They both wear dirty clothes.
They both burn
to hold
a little green.

One sells oranges, walking up
and down the street.
One holds a sign that reads,
“I’m hungry, help me eat.”
I feel for both of them,
but I only admire one.

The one who hands
oranges in bags to tired faces,
who chases cars
for his change,
who counts pennies
as profit
to keep his apartment.

The one whose wife wakes
before sunrise to walk
through Los Angeles streets
yelling “tamales, tamales”
with a 4 year old daughter
at her side.

The mother who crossed over
4 years earlier so her daughter
wouldn’t have to sell tamales
with a baby at her side.

The father tells his son
never to beg,
but to work hard for the bread.
So the son sells Cheetos
at his high school
and gets called beaner
for not owning
named brand clothes.
A son who must bring dollars
before good grades
because rent is two weeks late.
A son who will one day hold
a gun to the head
of a liquor store clerk,
only to remember
his father’s words.

Mijo, work hard for the bread.

Rent is two weeks late
so the family
breaks tax laws to make jobs
and they lifts roses to the sky
hoping someone passing by
is falling in love again,
so the family
takes elotes
to the neighborhood projects
hoping the ninos are hungry.

The news says this family is here
to take my job,
my seat in school,
my country,
but the only thing they’re taking
is the risk
of being handcuffed,
broken and deported
in the name of family
in the name of love
in the name of trying
everything to stay above
the current
and that is why
I can’t help

But to admire the man
with an orange in his hand,
a fireball of hunger in his palm.

(via lovejessb)

— 1 week ago with 2524 notes