"Falling’s not the problem, when I’m falling I’m in peace. It’s only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief."
Florence & the Machine
Florence & the Machine
Who decided this was “the real world” anyway, right? Maybe the real world is a Chinese fishing village, or an Arizona desert valley or a boat in the Balkans or at Ernest Hemingway’s old house in Key West. Maybe it’s on Saturn. Maybe it’s on Alpha Centauri. It sure as hell can’t just be this coffee shop. So maybe this obsession with “living in the real world” and staying put — maybe that’s been the real “vacation” right? From the actual life we’re all supposed to be living, which is the one where:
You take that trip.
You kiss that person.
You quit that job.
You pilot that spacecraft through an alien invasion.
“Let’s Run Away,” via thoughtcatalog. hell to the fuck yeah to this.
(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)
when i was waking up today i came up with the perfect word for my mood, but i’ve forgotten it by now.