“”Rowing is the embodiment of the agony of ecstasy. Every practice, every row, every erg session, every piece…we kill it, and then kill it again.””
— a very smart rower. (via lulaann)
I Don’t Know How Much Vodka I Put In This But I’m Going To Drink It Anyways: a memoir
I hope you find fireflies that will guide you home
on a winter night that is so dark that the only thing
you can see is the smoke from your breath
and the lit tip of your cigarette.
I hope you find a way to let someone in
and find someone worth loving this time.
I hope she makes you feel something.
I hope she makes you realize
that you weren’t so numb and cold
this whole time after all.
Maybe she won’t try to fix you
because you don’t need to be fixed.
You just need warmth.
You need a good cry.
You need a good hug.
You need something worth
getting happy about.
It used to be me,
but it’s okay if it’s not anymore.
I hope she listens to the way you crack lame jokes
and the way you’re always talking about random facts.
I hope she loves the way you always look a little sleepy
and your hair’s always a little messy,
and your voice always sounds
like you’ve just woken up.
I hope you figure this out somehow,
that after all this time,
I’m still thinking about you.
I’m still hoping the best for you,
but we can’t talk
because we can’t speak