Don’t do it. Don’t love me.– Charles Bukowski, Women (via perfect)
disconnekted: Sometimes I become simply terrified of myself; of what I am capable of, of what I’m not. Of how I can soar above the world and then crash into the dirt in a matter of moments; even less. Of how I can go from walking so surely To staggering into walls.
Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word– George R.R. Martin (via n-ephthys)
To a tortured friend
Georgia; A whisper at midnight when your house is cold, your mind is foggy and breathing doesn’t come as easily as it should. Rae; A streak of light breaking through your window and obnoxiously introducing itself as morning. Georgia-Rae, A girl, it would seem, a pretty face Magnetic in all aspects of the way she talks, laughs, passes casual courtesies in a way that makes the word...
I only feel like myself when I am alone.– Peter Cameron, Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You (via dreamdrugg)
jaidenbatchler: do you know who’s cute? read the last word me
I’m not naturally a happy person. I have been happy periodically, but for the most part, I think a lot, and through thought, I find more and more things to be sad about. Life is a canvas and we are all canvases, and every beautiful stroke I make on the world, I overlook. But when my brush doesn’t quite hit the surface right, or my painting doesn’t look the way I envisioned it...
subsistingsoul: كلما ازدادت ثقافة المرء ازداد بؤسه The wiser a human is, the more miserable he is.