_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I just want to go outside.
Anchorage. The desire to hold on to time as it passes, like trying to keep your grip on a rock in the middle of a river. Feeling the weight of the current press against your chest while your elders float on downstream calling over the roar of the rapids, ‘Just let go—it’s okay—let go.’
(via mols)
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Hold on
if you feel like letting go.
I’m not sure where I am now. Some days I’m here, some days I’m not.
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