Underwater sculpture, in Grenada, in honor of our African ancestors thrown overboard.

I couldnt not reblog this, it’s so powerful to me.

oh my god.

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

by Rachel C. Lewis (via coyotegold)

(via bgdiwlfdy)

i scrolled past this and the song I’m listening to said the same words… 
I hate small talk. I don’t want to hear about your co workers life, I want to hear about what keeps you up at night. Why you woke up in the middle of the night in tears. I want to hear about what makes your blood boil and what makes you so happy you feel like you can fly. I want to hear about what hurts so much you would rather die than feel that again and I want to hear about what feels so good you would give your life to have just once more. I want to hear the truth. I want to hear you say that you love her and not me. I want to hear you say it. Say it. Say it.

(Source: tillinfinity)