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Almost. It’s a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe.

— Joan Bauer (via rampias)

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pureblyss:

Forever trying to find that balance between hoping too little and too much, between being too much of a dreamer and too much of a realist, between being too distant and too attached. I don’t know where that fine line is, so if you find it let me know.

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Distant

isolables:

To them, I was physically present. But I wasn’t. I was but a distant star, burnt out, disintegrated from the collision of meteors unknown. And all that was left of me, was starlight, an illusion that I was really there.

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pizzaorwifi:

I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.

— D.D. Barant, Dying Bites.

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Absence, the highest form of presence.

— James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (via onlinebabe)

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