“Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.”— Anais Nin
(Source: quotemadness.com)
i have maybe 10 years to make my life reaallyyy count for something.
history has a way of repeating itself… is this going to have the same, tragic ending?
sometimes i wonder if my mom and i would be friends if we were both in our 20s.
(via dannniii)
