counting stars
You’d destroy me, and I’d let you.

"I’m the type of person who loves to stay in and read a book. I’m also the person who likes to play music very loudly, have a party and DJ and dance."

"I’m the type of person who loves to stay in and read a book. I’m also the person who likes to play music very loudly, have a party and DJ and dance."

What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are — underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.

Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.
— Sandra Cisneros 

Life is not a song, sweetling.

disnerd:

do you ever wish you could just stop time for like a couple weeks so you could just sleep and do whatever you want and just get your shit together and then after that time would just start back up again and you wouldn’t have missed anything because you would just pick up where you left off

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