I am sure I could write a million reasons why I love you. Thank you for everything Molly.
10:48 pm 5 notes
I’m a bit rusty with my words. Hopefully I can start writing something good soon.
10:24 pm 3 notes
— How to start breathing again, n.a
10:16 pm 86 notes
As a young girl, my grandfather used to tell me how lucky I am. His face would wrinkle and his hands would try and stand still, but tired veins would give him away. He told me how he would listen to the radio waiting for for it to be over. The vibrations of war still sting.
My grandmother lost her husband a few years after she came to America. She tried to act as if the pain did not swallow her like the cancer did to him.
My mother still talks about my father. I can see the prick on her heart. The wound is open and you can see where it screamed and broke.
I remember the first time I looked in the mirror, I tried not to look.
My grandfather said that I was lucky because I would know what it is like to me in war.”
— "A Generation of War", n.a
10:05 pm 13 notes
There is no standard treatment for treating a broken heart. You take your time and heal. You may need to cry for a while. You may deny it too and that is okay. What is most important is to find out who you are again. x
12:49 pm 4 notes