Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.
— John Green.
1K notes
·
View notes
How cruel of me. Everything we did together, every moments we shared, every stories we created were never real. All was just fiction. All of this was just happening inside my mind. But it seemed so real, you felt so real. But you were just a fragment of my imagination…
32 notes
·
View notes
The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
~Edit~
Yikes guys I didn’t expect this post to blow up.
I’m grateful it did though. Looking at all the comments and tags really takes a stab at my heart because it just shows how wired we are for connection. If life has any meaning, then it’s that.
This concept really sunk its teeth into me as it reassures the notion that no one is ever truly gone. Parts of them just change into you.
That teacher I talked about inspired me to become a teacher myself. This was my first year teaching. Here’s to a new generation of curved i’s.
137K notes
·
View notes
In another universe, you stayed.
— In this one, you didn’t and it ruined me.
7K notes
·
View notes
What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
— J.D. Salinger.
5K notes
·
View notes