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“I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard”

If I stay (via mad-cutie)

I found a song for an au!hunger games Shaunces?

“Nothing can wear you out like caring about people.”

S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This Is Now (via thenocturnals)

c r y i n g  is the only way your eyes speak when your mouth can’t explain how things made your heart b r o k e n

"You punch like a girl."

"Oh." Automne raised her fist, tightly clenched and shot it across the space right into the man’s eye.

There was no time for James to react at all. He crumpled from the blow, knees folding under his weight as he tumbled into the ground.

"How’s that for punching like a girl?" She sneered, stepping over her friend’s prone body in search of better things to do. Some trainee will probably find James’ unmoving body and get him help. She’ll visit him in the infirmary the next day to rub this in his face.

You are nine,
and determined to get 
the rabbit in the snare for dinner,
when you see him for the first time.
You still have dirt beneath your nails 
when he punches you in the eye.

You punch him back.

You are eleven,
when you learn about
space and orbit,
and the thought hits you 
like a bullet to the chest. 
His smile has always looked
a little like the sun to you.

You are eighteen,
when you watch him climb 
his way up to the stage
as you scale yours.
You smile at him and it feels 
like scar tissue over an open wound.

You are eighteen, 
and dying with the taste
of his name trapped in your throat.
You still have blood beneath your nails
when he grabs your hand.

You decide to let go.

Credits to the lovely awestiles because the original poem came from her [x]

You are five,
and determined to build
sandcastles out of mud,
when you see him for the first time.
You still have dirt beneath your nails
when he grabs your hand.

You never really let go.

You are eleven,
when you learn about
space and orbit,
and the thought hits you
like a bullet to the chest.
His smile has always looked
a little like the sun to you.

You are sixteen,
when he falls in love
with a pair of brown eyes
that aren’t yours.
You smile at him and it feels
like scar tissue over an open wound.

You are seventeen,
and dying with the taste
of his name trapped in your throat.
You still have blood beneath your nails
when he grabs your hand.

He never lets go.

you close your eyes  (via awestiles)

“Please, don’t break the parts of me I can’t afford to fix.”

c.j.n. (via arctlcmnkeys)

sr