I'm Sarah.

I love rowing, books, Oregon, and travelling. I am an aspiring teacher. This is my semi-serious venture into adulthood.

New Zealand is pretty cool, y’all.

Seriously let's spend a summer working in a national park like Yellowstone or Zion together

This is actually on one of my lists of things to do, and I’m so down to do it with the babliest of babes.

My ankles have been super swollen from a massive amount of bug bites, so I put on compression socks to try and help, but. I just ended up looking like an extra from a 90s rap video..

My ankles have been super swollen from a massive amount of bug bites, so I put on compression socks to try and help, but. I just ended up looking like an extra from a 90s rap video..

I’ve had one guy who never said thank you and another who never said sorry and I just don’t understand why either is so hard. Appreciate and apologize, folks, those are literally the most important things you can ever do for the people you love.

Reblogged from fortunenglory  11 notes

I’ve been thinking lately about immortality. What it means to be remembered, what I want to be remembered for, certain questions concerning memory and fame. I love watching old movies. I watch the faces of long-dead actors on the screen, and I think about how they’ll never truly die. I know that’s a cliché but it happens to be true. Not just the famous ones who everyone knows, the Clark Gables, the Ava Gardners, but the bit players, the maid carrying the tray, the butler, the cowboys in the bar, the third girl from the left in the nightclub. They’re all immortal to me. First we only want to be seen, but once we’re seen, that’s not enough anymore. After that, we want to be remembered. By Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven (via fortunenglory)

Kinda want to go to the bar and grab a drink and get out of my bubble but I’m not sure I can be arsed to put pants on.

…I really need help with this whole social life thing.

Cataloging the Reasons you Can’t Expect me to Stay

Because the hand that grabs my ankle from underneath the bed will have the softest embrace I could ever imagine.
And because it will co-sign my first lease with me.
Because I’m afraid of what you will see in my face when you think of a lifetime of mornings waking up next to it.
Because I do not want to know what the other side of leaving feels like.
I’m afraid I will drown in every tear I’ve caused if they ever meet all those I’ve stifled.
Because I never wanted to be the person who never left home and instead I may never find it.
Because I’m afraid you will give up before I do.