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I don’t care if Mike Brown was going to college soon. This should not matter. We should not have to prove Mike Brown was worthy of living. We should not have to account for the ways in which he is suitably respectable. We should not have to prove that his body did not deserve to be riddled with bullets. His community should not have to silence their anger so they won’t be accused of rioting, so they won’t become targets too.
"silence is not an option," roxane gay  (via housewifeswag)

(Source: brookehatfield)

An ordinary beginning, something that would have been forgotten had it been anyone but her. But as he shook her hand and met those striking emerald eyes, he knew before he’d taken his next breath that she was the one he could spend the rest of his life looking for but never find again. She seemed that good, that perfect, while a summer wind blew through the trees.
Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook (via kushandwizdom)
He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless. And as I walked back to give Takumi’s note to the Colonel, I saw that I would never know. I would never know her well enough to know her thoughts in those last minutes, would never know if she left us on purpose. But the not-knowing would not keep me from caring, and I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.
John Green, Looking for Alaska (via kushandwizdom)

and while you live in other cities
with names I never heard of and
pavements made of different bricks
I look them up in my atlas
one street at a time
sometimes you leave footprints behind
made by phonecalls and letters
as a way to keep me attached
while I remain seated
you go around me in circles
rings on oilcloths
smelling of shame

you keep changing directions
I keep my compass pointing north
because that’s where my mom’s from
and it feels more like home to me
still you are my alternating current
switching on and off
and I believe in you because I want to be a person who believes
so quit the bullshit and put a smile on my face
trouble and pain can wait
ride with me and show me cities with different street lights

let me be your draft
I should know better but your hair smells like green lucky strikes
and maybe time doesn’t heal everything but at least it stops the bleeding
I want to be a person who believes
palm to palm
a soft hug on a heated porch in a cold city
what we wish is darkened to us and I’ll go down with all the lights turned off anyway
so invest your last feelings in me
go on
let me in

Let me in (via baby-itsawildworld)
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