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⤜⤜↣⟐◈⟐↢⤛⤛

Hello there, ladies and gents. I'm Angelissa, and I'm twenty years of age. I aim to write with passion, I aim to love all the way, and I aim to live my moments through a lens of raw appreciation.
Welcome to my blog. Come hang out with me here.


↣Feathers on the Flume↢

| Thoughts + Moments | About Me | Twitter | Instagram |
⤜⤜↣⟐◈⟐↢⤛⤛

Hello there, ladies and gents. I'm Angelissa, and I'm twenty years of age. I aim to write with passion, I aim to love all the way, and I aim to live my moments through a lens of raw appreciation.
Welcome to my blog. Come hang out with me here.


Sometimes we don’t necessarily recognize acts of love as acts of love when they happen to us. Sometimes love is disguised and intertwined with a simple act. It can come in the form of a kind offering, a listening ear, words saturated with empathy, or just one simple action silently saying to you, “Don’t worry. I’m here for you.” 

"Rain on roof outside window, gray light, deep covers and warm blankets. Rain and nip of autumn in air; nostalgia, itch to work better and bigger. That crisp edge of autumn."
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 26 August 1956 in Paris  (via herkindoftea)

(Source: lovingsylvia, via herkindoftea)