Shooting at random

twenty-one. female. speaker of spanish, english, & french, in that order. in the business of whining, cursing, and having an opinion. ♥: languages, music, movies, books, politics, history... or basically anything that doesn't involve math.

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Oh I will become what I deserve…

Now playing: “the Fear” - Ben Howard

I’m having one of those really random moments of complete and utter peace, it’s lovely. They don’t happen often these days but sometimes I fix my tea just right, the weather’s great, the house is quiet and I can turn my music up and just relax. It’s like a big sigh after holding your breath for a while.

It’s just bizarre that this moment’s here now as opposed to in a few weeks from now, when I’ve finished settling into the semester and, more importantly, have put the GRE behind me. I’ve one week and then I have to take a test that will probably make or break my plans for the next year or two. Brilliant.

l kind of just want everything figured out now, not 6 months from now when rejections (and hopefully admissions) letters come rolling in. The only thing I regret about staying an extra semester is the giant spring semester lull I have; I’ve absolutely no idea what I’ll be doing with myself after December.

Maybe if I save up enough money I’ll go to London and/or Paris. Fly away and enjoy some downtime by myself, even if it’s a short week or so.

I’ve been worryin’,
My time is a little unclear
I will become what I deserve

# text

# thoughts

(Source: pastelfairyofparis)

↵ Originally from pastelfairyofparis

↵ Reblogged from kaceymichellemartin

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Edgar Allan Poe

# poetry

# Edgar Allan Poe

# how long have I loved you Poe?

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

When You Are Old - W.B. Yeats

# poetry

↵ Reblogged from

Perdida como un perro

en un día de lluvia.

Totalmente perdida, aullándole a la luna.

Y no sé donde voy a ir,

no hay nada que me ate aquí

Perdida sin saber quien soy.

en la montaña rusa.