whimsical fantasies

Fashion. Fun. Attractive and charming people. Movies. Music. Life. Chocolate. Cupcakes.
i get very easily inspired by many things around me.
ABSOLUTELY LOVE GLEE. I adore Kimora Lee Simmons. Heart my Family, Friends For Life.

If you’re breathing, God has a purpose for you. As long as you have breath, someone needs what you have. Your gifts, your talent, your love, your smile.

(Source: worshipgifs, via firebones)

“if your heart is hurting
write it out”

reblog this, so i can write your url down and write you anonymously something nice to bright up your day

jnealsy:

i think we all need to get a nice compliment right?

(via shedefinesawesomeness)

“Im not addicted to alcohol or drugs, im addicted to escaping reality.”

—   yesyesyesyes (via psychedelic-flower-childd)

(Source: ta-yl-or, via prettyweirdkate)

“I ached for what never became.”

—   ueioa.tumblr.com (via yoursixwordstory)

(via prettyweirdkate)

“There are many things I could give you: days, kisses, beautiful words of some long forgotten poet. But the most precious gift I have to offer you is my words. The slope of my letters that match the curve of your smile and the smudge of my ink that matches the dots on your face. Because days will decay and embraces will fade and somebody else’s words will become wrongly interpreted. But my words will not expire within you. They will stay trapped on a page or lodged in your heart, stuck in your head or sewn into your seams. The best gift I can give you is my words, because they are me, they come from my interpretation of the world, which is so like yours and so I give myself to you in black and white. In sheets of wrinkled paper and in unevenly spaced words, which is perhaps the most terrifyingly beautiful thing I have to give.”

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

—   Henry David Thoreau (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: coolisacolor, via aestheticintrovert)

M I N I S T R Y

illusions-of-allusions:

Solaces were once held
in the resonance of my voice
but now the only sound heard
is a deafening wretched noise

in metaphors remember me
in similes I’ll find my existence
in the quiet blessings of spilled ink
with misery I’ll line my religion

(via aestheticintrovert)

“I’m not for everyone. I’m barely for me.”

—   Marc Maron (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: goofballery, via aestheticintrovert)