i love taking pictures of my feet because it reminds me i was there and now i am here; i love dirty slushy snow on the curbs; i hate barbecue and salt; i love peanut butter; i love my freckles; i love shoes; i still go trick-o-treating; i love the Lord my God with all my soul; animals like to run into my car; i hate capital letters and abbreviations; i listen to my music loudy loudy louder; i say hot dog, roof, room and won in my own special way; i tend to dress like an old person – grandma-chic; i have hearing dyslexia; i like my chick flicks predictable, cheesy and naïve; i’ve become a coffee addict; i'm the stupid american with the muffin; i'm super.
joy is a laissez-faire ballet of synchronizing, wistful birds.
we shall fly together once more.
— andrew giambarba
joy is to try. to stumble. to fail. to burn. to scream. to scar. to regret. to whimper. to wish. to hope. to dream… and then maybe even to try again.
(Source: theotheralice)
i think today i’ll be a giraffe. or a bear. or just the littlest bird. i’ve always wondered what it would be like to be winged..
(Source: atragicomiccomic, via misguidedviewsofperfection)
— Sylvia Plath (via moldavia)
(Source: lullabiesfromdresden, via moldavia)
joy is liar, liar pants on fire… and the flame isn’t coming from your tooshie.
joy is a chance encounter of kindred spirit and fluttering heart.
(Source: pinkmeters, via misguidedviewsofperfection)
care to dream with me?
“you gotta rock yourself a little harder”
joy is that sway in your head growing into the throbbing swing in your hips.
