I'll keep dreaming.

I'm Meredith.
I'm here to express my thoughts & opinions.

archive | rss | random



following

brain itches Theme by Adam Holwerda.
Mar
12

(Source: retrochic, via fuckyeahaudreyhepburn)

Feb
25

If I don’t believe in Him, why would He believe in me?

For a while, I had lost all my faith in religion and God. I’ve always considered myself Agnostic, because I was never really sure of God’s true existence. For some reason, lately I’ve regained that faith and I’m happy to say I do believe in God. I’m not Christian or Catholic, or any other religion for that matter. I just believe that God is real, and that he wants me to be the best person that I can be. I feel so much happier now that I have this faith and I feel like I can do so much more.

My best friend is an Atheist and I fully accept that. It’s her choice, and I’m not going to shove my beliefs down her throat, just like she doesn’t shove hers down mine. It’s funny because people probably think we never talk about religion but we actually do. I love that our views on religion don’t mess up our friendship because we hardly ever argue or debate when we talk about God, we just simply state what we believe in and why. I accept her beliefs and she accepts mine, no questions asked. That is what real friendship is.

+

(via -lifeline)

+

(via -lifeline)

+

(via -lifeline)

+

(via -lifeline)

+

(Source: leeface, via -lifeline)

Feb
13
fredandgeorge-: Dwight: What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It’s priceless. As I’m taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting: I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris, by the Trocadero. She’s been waiting for me all these years; she’s never taken another lover. I don’t care, I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stashed the chandelier.

fredandgeorge-:

Dwight: What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany’s at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It’s priceless. As I’m taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting: I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris, by the Trocadero. She’s been waiting for me all these years; she’s never taken another lover. I don’t care, I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stashed the chandelier.

(Source: qwumparchive, via hidethecracks)

+

(via hidethecracks)

Feb
04

I could have married you, instead I buried you.

The depths of a man’s soul cannot be measured in a manor of meters and fathoms; but rather, it is in my opinion, only quantified by his proximity to heaven and hell. It was in such a state I ushered myself past the town tavern, bursting at the seams with the sounds of laughter and drunken piano playing. Had it only been a different night, a different place, a different kind of man passing by the threshold of that innocent pub, the events that transpired at that point would have undoubtedly been drastically different. I can only guess if anyone outside that place had a clue when those exclamations of mirth became the desperate screams of the helpless begging for their very lives.