Everything has its time...

Hello, my name is Caitlin, and life is weird

i want a word for the almost-home.

that point where the highway’s monotony becomes familiar
that subway stop whose name will always wake you from day’s-end dozing
that first glimpse of the skyline
that you never loved until you left it behind.

what do you call the exit sign you see even in your dreams?
is there a name for the airport terminal you come back to,
comfortably exhausted?

i need a word for rounding your corner onto your street,
for seeing your city on the horizon,
for flying homewards down your highway.

give me a word for the boundary
between the world you went to see
and the small one you call your own.

i want a word for the moment you know
you’re almost home.

there and back again, n.m.h. (via anoraborealis)

(via kodakclick)

MY GRANDPA WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST

honerablerosemary:

BUT HE HAD 7 KIDS AND A WIFE TO FEED SO HE ENDED UP OWNING A GROCERY STORE AFTER SERVING IN WW2

TODAY MY DAD WAS CLEANING THE HOUSE AND FOUND SOME PENCIL DRAWINGS THAT MY GRANDPA DID AND ASKED IF I WANTED TO HAVE THEM AND I

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CAN WE JUST LOOK AT THIS

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MY BAD WEBCAM PICTURES DON’T EVEN DO THEM JUSTICE LIKE LOOK AT THESE

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MY GRANDPA NEVER BECAME A FAMOUS ARTIST

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BUT I WANT TO MAKE HIM KNOWN

(via embrace-is-love)