Just a lost soul searching for meaning in this world, while I wonder hopelessly in love with the world I live. I love to travel, and try new things, I refuse to admit that I am a hopeless romantic, but I really am.

acitydissolving:

xfaults:

xfaults:

there’s a website called avoidhumans.com that can let you look up local public places that aren’t crowded.

just reposting for any of my followers who haven’t seen this! i love you all

I’m laughing because I live in a pretty small town/remote area and I shared my location, and the site was basically like “?????” It won’t even show me any restaurants or anything.

image

"Nah, you’re fine. You don’t live near civilization anyway. It’s all fine."

A Touch

It was a simple touch. Nothing more than that. But if only you realized that it means the world to me. There we are, sitting and talking, everyone at the restaurant looking at us like we are dating. But we’re not.

Just being with each other, after having a really bad day at the airport, changing flights. Maybe this was supposed to happen. But there we are, after I had told you I find you secretive, closed off, you finally open up. Talking to me about your family. And I couldn’t be more happy than that moment…or so I thought.

You started talking to be about the tremors, asking if they ever stop. If anything helps them go away. After telling you that nothing has helped, you tell me about her, your grandmother. You said that she had healing hands, and that whenever someone was hurt, she would touch them with love. Rubbing their back for comfort, something to tell them that she was there to support them. You said, “I know that I’m not her, but maybe I have healing hands too.”

Smiling, blushing, and looking down I said, “Maybe. Who knows.” Then in that moment, you reached over and put your hands around mine, trying to make the tremors stop, while you looked at me with this look of hurt on your face. The tremors didn’t stop, but your hands helped to warm mine.

We stopped talking for what seemed like lifetimes, just looking at our hands and then each other. Even though it was only moments it could have gone on forever. You rubbed the back of my hand with your thumb, so comforting, loving.

I slid my right hand on top of yours, our hands a tangled mess of fingers, curling my fingers around the side of your hand. Looking at you, then back at our hands.

"Is it working?" you say. 

"It’s not," I go, "but maybe you have to be older, have more wisdom for it to work."

Both laughing we continue holding hands, like it’s something we do every moment that we can. Neither of us looking away, until I blush and look back at our hands.

You have this this small group of discolored skin near the inside of your right wrist that I’ve always wondered what it was from. Running a finger over it, I ask you what happened. You go on to tell this story about how it got there, and I can’t help but continuing to look at it as you tell me.

It’s not an overly interesting story, but in that moment nothing more could have captured my attention. Because all that matters in those moments is that we are holding hands, and looking at each other. That human connection was the only thing that mattered.

Shortly after we fall into silence, that magical moment slowly slipping away. We stop gazing into each others eyes, look at our hands, then back at each other. Realizing what has been happening, we both pull our hands away.

I wish that we didn’t lose that moment. That we could have lived in those magical moments where we both didn’t care what was happening between us, and just let it happen. In those moments when we weren’t denying anything that was happening between us. 

But we did. We lost those moments, and are fumbling to get them back. Because we both know, but are unwilling to admit anything to each other.

 Even though other people see it. Even though, you admitted with no words that your ex thought you were cheating on her…with me.

We are something. We just haven’t figured it out yet.

calveropoetry:

So no one told you life was going to be this wayyyyyyyyyyyy!

vvni:

It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there - William Carlos Williams
Alfredo Jaar

vvni:

It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there - William Carlos Williams

Alfredo Jaar

thefrogman:

‘They have learned that the lady at the ferry ticket booth occasionally has treats’ [reddit]

thefrogman:

They have learned that the lady at the ferry ticket booth occasionally has treats [reddit]

(Source: awwww-cute)

(Source: greysgifs)

I am a very private person, yet I am an open book.
If you don’t ask…I won’t tell.

To be honest, coming to New York City on my own was intimidating. The big lights and sounds in the big bad city. I wasn’t born or even raised in the city so I asked a friend who has actually lived in the city before for some guidance. There was a list of things that I should and should not do but there is one piece of advice that really stuck with me. That I shouldn’t look up at buildings as I walk the streets, that I should always walk like I’m in a hurry and even if I’m lost I should act like I know where I’m going. Essentially she told me I should not to act like a tourist. This was the best advice because it enabled me to blend in a little more easier. Every New Yorker can smell a tourist from a mile away and a lot of them loathe the tourists that come to the city. I didn’t want that, I wanted to adapt to the lifestyle like I’ve lived on the island my whole life. Not only did it give me the ability to blend in easier but it gave me a new perspective and way to think, to always have a definitive direction. To have the mindset of always knowing where I’m going, not just on the streets of the city but in life.

The Khool Haus

I’d like to thank gallaxey for these wise words

(via thekhoolhaus)

doctorwho:

The #DWWorldTour TARDIS has landed in New York City!