𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞.

YASSS HARRYYDJFJGKGJFJFJD🥺

Finja Brandenburg // unknown

*sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he

Based on my favorite post on this goddamned site

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟓𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

August 2013

The clock at the front of the classroom was ticking loudly, it was all 15-year-old Y/N managed to focus on. The slow tick, and then a slower tock. With each one, another ounce of life was dragged from her body. It was physically painful to sit in that chair, in that classroom, and with a paper of unsolved and wrongly executed Chemistry work in front of her. Just touching that piece of paper had the same effect as if she were tickling her uvula. She did not even look down at the paper in total fear of feeling useless, stupid, and nauseous.

Okumaya devam et

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

if u reblog this in 45 seconds u will meet ur favorite musician(s). no matter what. they will be raised from the dead 4 u.

sending so much love to everyone who feels like they’re never chosen as the best friend, as the partner, as the favorite. sending love to all of you who have been treated and felt like second best. sending love to all of you who have felt rejected and unwanted. to all of you who have had to try really hard to fit in because you felt like you never will. 

you are so loved. you will be seen and heard by the right people. you can trust that you are valuable and not defined by other people’s perceptions of you. if someone doesn’t see your worth, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too. 

one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.