Professional Dreamer

ceramics photography and things i steal

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"Maybe your a masochist" -my mom
“Maybe I am” -me

Wtf. Not related to sex. But still funny to me.

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I was told the average girl begins to plan her wedding at the age of 7. She picks the colors and the cake first.

By the age of 10 she knows time, and location.

By 17 she’s already chosen a gown, 2 bridesmaids and a maid of honor.

By 23 she’s waiting for a man who wont break out in hives when he hears the word “commitment”, someone who doesn’t smell like a Band-Aid drenched in lonely, someone who isn’t a temporary solution to the empty side of the bed, someone who’ll hold her hand like it’s the only one they’ve ever seen.

To be honest, I don’t know what kind of tux I’ll be wearing, I have no clue what my wedding will look like.

But I imagine the women who pins my last to hers will butterfly down the aisle like a 5 foot promise.

I imagine her smile will be so large that you’ll see it on google maps, and know exactly where our wedding is being held.

The woman that I plan to marry will have champagne in her walk, and I will get drunk on her footsteps.

When the pastor asks if I take this woman to be my wife, I will say yes before he finishes the sentence. I’ll apologize later for being impolite but I will also explain him that our first kiss happened 6 years ago and I’ve been practicing my “Yes” for past 2, 165 days.

When people ask me about my wedding I never really know what to say, but when they ask me about my future wife I always tell them her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I say she thinks too much, misses her father, loves to laugh, and she’s terrible at lying because her face never figured out how to do it correctly.

I tell them if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them if she came in a bottle I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. If she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her cover-to-cover, hoping to find typos, just so we can both have a few things to work on.

Because aren’t we all unfinished? Don’t we all need a little editing Aren’t we all waiting to be proofread by someone? Aren’t we all praying they will tell us that we make sense? She don’t always make sense, but her imperfections are the things I love about her the most.

I don’t know when I will be married. I don’t know where I will be married but I do know this, whenever I’m asked about my future wife— I always say: …She’s a lot like you.
Rudy Francisco (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source: katcossio, via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

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zebrasdodance:

"The truth is, I want to feel my pain. I want to feel the sadness and the near-burning nostalgia of leaving a place and a people I love, because it deserves it. Everything beautiful that we experience in life, when it suffers or comes to an end, is going to be filled with this kind of aching sorrow. But that is a good thing, because it means that it had significance in your life, that it cannot be easily dismissed like so many other things you let roll off your back. To be sad when the end comes is to pay homage to everything that was great, to all that it gave you, to who you are because of it. And yes, it is “weak” to cry and write letters and talk about your sadness. It is “weak” to rest your head on someone’s chest and welcome being consoled. It is “weak” to focus, at least temporarily, on the pain you feel.But it is also wonderful. It is a moment in which you feel alive, human, and fully connected to the things that you touch in life. There are few moments where we lose or change or move on from something great, and those moments do make us weak. To be strong and silent in the face of them — to deny that they have touched you and will leave a great absence in your life — is to dismiss its importance. You may find yourself needing the support of friends and family, to be reassured and have your hand held. You may need to be reminded of what is good, and that the pain will subside. You may need to lean on someone. And that’s okay."

(Source: Flickr / m-wizzal, via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

7,328 notes

humansofnewyork:

“My younger sister died when I was seven. I remember my mom asking if I’d seen her, and we searched the whole house, and discovered her beneath some hurricane shutters. We think that she climbed up on them to play, and they fell down on her. My strongest memory from that day is these two young girls, holding open our front door when the paramedics arrived. I can see them clearly in my memory, but I don’t know who they are. I may have just invented them, but I like to think that they were angels.”

humansofnewyork:

“My younger sister died when I was seven. I remember my mom asking if I’d seen her, and we searched the whole house, and discovered her beneath some hurricane shutters. We think that she climbed up on them to play, and they fell down on her. My strongest memory from that day is these two young girls, holding open our front door when the paramedics arrived. I can see them clearly in my memory, but I don’t know who they are. I may have just invented them, but I like to think that they were angels.”