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It’s 3.47am and I miss you just like I did last week at 2.15 in the afternoon when I remembered the last time you told me you wanted me and you meant it. It’s 3.47am and I should be sleeping but all I can think about is how you used to smile when I told you you were beautiful and the way you held me tight and said you would never let me go but I guess things change and people move on and now you’re sleeping and I’m lying awake thinking about you.
I wish I was sleeping - 3.47am 06/05/14 (via curiovsly)
At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.
Caitlin Moran  (via wethinkwedream)

(Source: artfucker1996)

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