Just a girl with stars in her eyes

20, Canada;;

this blog is a little about my life and the people in it, a little bit inspirational, and a lot about the books, quotes, shows, movies, bands, songs and famous people I love
"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are"-E.E.Cummings

somepotternerd:

Hagrid Hagrid Potter, you were named after the onLY GUY IN MY LIFE WHO LOOKED OUT FOR ME WITH ZERO ULTERIOR MOTIVES HE LITERALLY JUST CARED ABOUT ME BECAUSE HE WAS A GENUINELY NICE PERSON AND HE DESERVES SOME RECOGNITION FOR THAT

(via owlconsumeyou)

I’m afraid I’ll never finish college. I’m afraid I’ll finish college with student loans I can never pay back. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree and won’t be able to find a job in that field. I’m afraid I’ll get a degree, get the job I dreamed of, and hate it.

—A Mental Illness Happy Hour listener whose list of fears matches mine four for four. Glad I’m not the only one. (via mukoros)

(Source: insensiblenothingness, via killerwithacolouredkite)

  • me: *owns 264 unread books*
  • me: *buys 17 new books*
  • me: *rereads harry potter*<p>GPOY</p>

I hold my own hands.
I brew my own coffee in the morning.
There’s nothing better than being in love with yourself,
no one else will know your knobs and windows
and junk drawers.

Tell people to view you as nothing but a miracle.
After centuries upon centuries of evolution and mistake
and more evolution, you are here.
Don’t take it for granted like I did, building up
years of self-hatred because the curve of my collarbone
is not the shape of a bow.
Let it be known you are a miracle, an off-chance
of evolution, compiled of stardust and greatness.

I touch my own cheeks when I need to remember
what beautiful things feel like.
I open my own doors, I write myself love poems.
People say there is a perfect half waiting for you,
but it’s already there.
It’s my left side, my locked wardrobe, the cold
side of the pillow.
It’s the dormant part of you that holds the other one
high enough to see over the horizon.

"self love" - e.p.h. (via teentitan-)

(via anditslove)

SONNET FOR MY FATHER, THE POET

sierrademulder:

(This is a first draft. Please do not post or reblog. Thank you!)


My phone cradled in my shoulder, I sit,
And listen to my father, as he talks
About sobriety. Man: not been lit
For a long time, before daughter could walk,
Been dry as long as I’ve had memories.
Father: biggest fan—ordered…