How can I trust in love? How can I trust in anything that can be so present one moment and so absent the next?
Beau Taplin, mistrust.  (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: afadthatlastsforever)

Don’t make it sound like that. Like some ordinary sort of grief. It’s not like that. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite. Over. This is a fresh wound every day.
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince (via quotes-shape-us)

You wrecked me and I apologized.
(via bridgetoteranarnia)


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