meaningless–poetry: THE UNROMANTIC TRUTH OF RUNNING AWAY You take out the trash: Old yearbooks, journals, and your pen collection from grade school. You grab the giant bag you packed: Clothes, toiletries, food for the next day, a towel, medicine, your laptop. You turn around to look at your room one last time. You feel nothing. …

I had a girl who loved sunsets. She said, “how lucky we must be, for the world to paint us a picture every night.” And she’d look at the sun and I’d look at her and I could see never see a difference. Ariana  (via wordsnquotes)