La distanza può essere abbattuta, da una macchina, da un treno, da un aereo, o dall’AMORE…

- Martina, xcassieainsworth

Lui è troppo per me.. e io, be’ io sono io, non abbastanza.. Lui invece è troppo, troppo bello, troppo simpatico, troppo per una come me che non si piace nemmeno da sola.. che non riesce a vedersi allo specchio nelle “giornate no”… una come me non è abbastanza e lui merita di più di una come me, lui merita il meglio perché lui è perfetto in tutto e per tutto. Lui è la mia idea di perfezione anche se magari qualcuno potrebbe dire che non lo è. Lui è semplicemente quello che amo anche se lui non mi vorrà mai.


E in questa valle piena di tanta quiete c’è un uragano, io.

- Martina, xcassieainsworth

E cazzo se lotterò per vederti sorridere


- Martina, xcassieainsworth

Fu una sera indimenticabile quella lì. Pioveva, e io stavo in macchina a guardare fuori dal finestrino, ricoperto di tante goccette d’acqua che si spostavano tutte insieme verso un’unica direzione, quasi meccanicamente, quasi per flusso di massa. Per un attimo presi a fissare il cielo, ed ebbi la sensazione di aver raggiunto l’apice della malinconia. Dall’altra parte del vetro c’era qualcosa che non mi apparteneva: il mondo che contiene la città, la città che contiene le case, le case che contengono le mura, le mura che contengono i mattoni, e i mattoni che contengono i granuli. Io non contenevo nulla, a parte qualche osso debole che, a sua volta, conteneva organi ripugnanti; e né mi apparteneva anche solo un granulo del mattone vecchio e scheggiato a cui tutti tirerebbero un calcio. Il portone era troppo grigio, il marciapiede troppo asimmetrico, un sali-scendi infernale, i pali della luce emettevano troppa poca luce, di un arancio tutt’al più fastidioso, per strada gli uomini erano troppo soli, i mozziconi sull’asfalto troppo corti, e giù, le pozzanghere troppo profonde: che spettacolo disarmante.
‘Sarà forse un bene che io non vi appartengo, e voi non mi appartenete?’ pensai ‘solo un architetto incompetente avrebbe potuto creare questa Terra così… così… e quegli alberi così… e quel colore della luna così… così triste. E la nebbia poi, vogliamo parlare della nebbia? Mi sa che è l’unica cosa positiva che ci resta qua, eh. La nebbia ci risparmia la vista d’un panorama così… viscido. Però l’aria sta diventando stretta e soffocante, mi toccherà aprire questo dannato finestrino, e mi toccherà vedere tutto il Disastro nitidamente e, cazzo, no… non adesso! inizio già a sentire la nausea…’

Due anni dopo, feci casualmente ritorno in quello strano posto che, per me, raffigurava una porzione rappresentativa del mondo fenomenico. Stavolta ero a piedi, e della nebbia neppure una sfumatura. Fu così che, dopo un lungo tragitto, mi ritrovai a spalancare gli occhi su quel panorama scabroso, che era stato la ragione di un’apoteosi della malinconia. Il portone grigio stava sempre lì, non era più ripugnante come lo ricordavo, ma di un grigio abbastanza lucido e brillante; sul marciapiede asimmetrico, per cui avevo nutrito tanta ostilità, stavano giocando due bambini, ci saltavano su, poi scendevano, insomma si divertivano, e pareva essere uno spettacolo carino a cui assistere; i pali della luce mi permettevano di osservare meglio i due bambini, e i riflessi arancioni che emettevano, quelli che proprio non sopportavo, stavolta colorivano i loro volti pallidi; per strada gli uomini si scambiavano sorrisi, i mozziconi sull’asfalto erano diminuiti, e le pozzanghere sparite: che scena diversa.
‘Possibile che a distanza di due anni il mondo cambi?’ pensai.
Poi distolsi lo sguardo dall’esterno, e mi guardai dentro.
La percezione delle cose non dipendeva dalle cose in sé, ma dipendeva dai miei occhi, dalle mie orecchie, dal mio naso, dalla mia lingua, dalla mia pelle, e soprattutto, dal mio stato d’animo.
Non era cambiato il mondo, ero cambiata io.


Sara Cassandra


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The sun rays beamed in through the red curtains as Harry squinted his eyes at the bright light. It was snowing outside, the snowflakes creating a beautiful wonderland. 

He yawned loudly as he stretched, earning a groan from his girlfriend that slept peacefully next to him. She was so cute. As he shifted, she cuddled closer to him making the sheets slip down her chest a little. He watched her sleeping features and smiled to himself because, god damn it, she was fucking beautiful. He stroke her hairline, the contours over her marked cheekbones before stopping at her pink plumped lips. Harry preferred her like this. With no make up, messy sex hair and a soft nude body. Natural.

She would always complain about having rolls, ugly hair, being too curvy and stuff like that. Harry could not understand why she thought those things about herself because all he saw was pure beauty. All her flaws (that weren’t flaws in his eyes) were perfect, he thought, and he didn’t mind telling her that the rest of his life.

Harry held her close, feeling the warmth radiating from one another. He loved mornings like these when he woke up first, which was a rare thing due to his usual sleepyhead. He let the finger pad of his indexbrush over the nude exposed skin on her hip that wasn’t covered in the white sheets. He felt one of her leg drape over his calf as she stirred in her sleep. She felt so soft, yet electric. Like he couldn’t get enough of her, which was true because he was crazy about his girlfriend.

 As he placed a loving kiss on her temple, her eyelids started to flutter open.
‘’Morning.’’ Harry mumbled in his deep morning voice with a smirk before kissing her cheek, feeling her eye lashes brush his skin. Although her eyes were thick with sleepiness they still seemed to pierce through his soul as their gazes met, a curve playing on her lips. It was like electric waves shot through him every time that happened and it felt so intimidating yet so good. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was special.

‘’Good morning Haz.’’ She said drowsily as a kiss in the corner of his mouth was placed, before hugging him tight, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Harry took her hand in his, fingers fitting perfectly. He smiled.

After a few moments that contained lots of giggling,stolen kisses and cuddling, Harry felt his stomach rumble and slowly sat. A pout from her was received and he ran a hand through his curls. He bent down, pecking her lips before he gave her that lopsided smile that made her insides crumble and her pout fade.

‘’Gonna make breakfast.’’ He explained. ‘’And if you’re lucky, you’ll get something too.’’

She cocked her eyebrow at this and he chuckled, his orbs mischievous, before standing up letting her silently drool over his naked body, not to mention his tall frame and never ending torso covered in tattoos. Memories from last night invaded her mind and a deep shade of pink spread on her cheeks.
‘’Come down when you’ve picked up your mouth from the floor, love’’. Harry winked while putting on a pair of boxers (which was much to her dismay) before making his way out of the bedroom.

‘’Harry Edward Styles, what in the world are you wearing?’’

Harry spun around to face his girlfriend staying by the door frame, with a shocked face expression, one hand covering her mouth. He stopped swaying his hips from when he’d been dancing around in the kitchen to Santa Clause Is Coming To Town. He gave her an amused grin when he saw she had a hard time contain herself from bursting out laughing, pointing at the pink apron with cupcake print she used to wear. She wouldn’t been surprised if she had found him in a fake Santa beard, dressed in the Christmas apron she used to wear for that time of the year.

‘’Don’t you like my new outfit, love?’’ Harry questioned as he flipped the pancakes, letting her see a glimpse of his nude back, her realizing the boxers were lying in a small pile at the floor. Yes, Harry wore an apron, and nothing else…

‘’Oh, it’s very nice, chef.’’ She smirked, trying not to stare at his very fit bum that came into view as he flipped the pancake again.

‘’I hope they’ll like it.’’ She heard him say, his voice with a bit humour in it as he went whisking the rest of the batter in the bowl.


Harry spun around with the spatula in his hand, a smug grin plastered on his face.

‘’I have plans for my future career you know. Like Master Chef. Or why not Hell’s Kitchen? Getting a bit rough.’’

Her lips formed into an ‘’o’’ as she nodded slowly, before laughing again. Harry laughed with her, deep dimples on full display. This is what Harry loved about her. She laughed at his horribly corny jokes and didn’t even seem to be a tad embarrassed. He felt so natural around her.

‘’And they better enjoy my bum cuz’ it’s gonna be all they’re gonna see.’’ He continued as he bent over to get another pan out from the bottom shelves.

‘’Harryyyy’’ she whined giggling,covering her face with her tiny hands, preventing herself from seeing her gorgeous boyfriends bum she’d seen countless times before. Harry chuckled because he thought her reaction was adorable. Like a four-year old not wanting to see their parents kissing. Every single little thing about her was adorable he thought, as he put the pan on the stove, cracking two eggs. He wiped his hands on the apron before walking over to her with her face still covered in her hands. Harry pulled her closer to him by the hem of his Ramones tee she’d put on and he bit his lip as he tugged away her hands from her face.

‘’It’s not like you’re gonna complain about it.’’ He stated. ‘’ Am I right or am I right?’’, sending her a wink before giving her a quick, yet teasing kiss. She giggled and was about to respond when Harry’s eyes suddenly widened as a burning smell filled the kitchen.

‘’Shit.’’ He cursed under his breath as he run his awkward run over to the stove, realizing the underside of the pancake had turned very dark. A small smile crept on her lips as she watched how her boyfriends grumpy face was taking form. It was unbelievably cute.

‘’Now that wasn’t very romantic.’’ Harry mumbled, sarcasm coating his voice as he tossed the burnt mess in the garbage can. Harry leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he stared out at the white wonderland outside, trying to play angry. She soon got the hint when she saw how the corners of his mouth perked upwards although he tried his best to remain grumpy. She walked over, putting her arms around his neck, reaching up on her tippy toes and kissed him. Harry’s dimpled smile returned and he sighed because how in the world could he be so lucky to have a girlfriend like her?

They looked at each other in a comfortable silence, only the radio playing Mariah Carey’s version of All I Want For Christmas Is You in the background.

‘’I love you.’’ She mumbled, eyes travelling to his lips. ‘’Although your such a dork sometimes. Cooking breakfast naked in my apron and burning food.’’ She tapped his nose with her finger. He chuckled.

‘’But a very, very sexy dork then.’’ Harry stated mischievously as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, peppering her skin with kisses.


He let out a muffled laugh before inhaling her rosy scent.

‘’I love you too’’.


Au Meme: You and Harry have been best friends for years. However, there  has always been something a little bit more between the two of you, and finally an interviewer got Harry to admit his feelings for you. Which you later on informed him were mutual.

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Salvate questo ragazzo dalla sua imbranataggine, vi supplico ahahah

Ahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhaahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah collasso

ho provato a dire così, ma non ha funzionato 

Rebloggo solo per far notare che l’ha presa da Sherlock e l’ha messa al plurale :)
Il più delle volte, quando mi guardo allo specchio, lo faccio per controllare se ci sono ancora.

- E. Hawke (via sonoquellachesono)

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  • Silente: Non è un segno visibile. Ti resta dentro, nella pelle.
  • Potter: Che cos'è?
  • Silente: L'amore, Harry. L'amore.
  • <---DONT REMOVE---->