Every Man Has a Molly

Bitch, I am fabulous.
Molly. 18. Middle of Nowhere.

Love everyone.
It was wonderful to sit with her head on my shoulder for hours and feel as I always have, even now, closer to her than to any other human being. And I wouldn’t mind a bit if in a few years you and I could snuggle up together under a stone in some old graveyard here. That is really a happy thought and not melancholy at all. – F. Scott Fitzgerald to Zelda Fitzgerald   (via 33113)
He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. – F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via elusivo)

balletstandsforbeautiful:

number 1 rule of tumblr: you must reblog when ever our creator comes up on your dash

fucking number 1 rule… ugh



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