Teachers don’t believe me when I tell them I’m going under the knife… School struggles are real.

Note, send them a picture of your uterus scrapings and say surgery is real.

You told me you didn’t know,
You told me until next time,
You told me see you later,

You always hugged me,
You always kissed me,
You all left.

She’s the kind of girl a guy meets when he’s too young, and he fucks up because there’s too much living to do. But later he realizes she’s perfect.

Californication  (via mviso)

(via you-mean-nothing-to-me)


Jeff Lindsay, Darkly Dreaming Dexter

I have emotions

that are like newspapers that

read themselves.

I go for days at a time

trapped in the want ads.

I feel as if I am an ad

for the sale of a haunted house:

18 rooms


I’m yours

ghosts and all.

Richard Brautigan, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970 (via sad-plath)

(via langleav)

Have a mind that is open to everything, and attached to nothing.

But why do I notice everything? She thought. Why must I think? She did not want to think. She would rather force her mind to become a blank and lie back, and accept quietly, tolerantly, whatever came.

Virginia Woolf, from The Years (via ohfairies)

(via ohfairies)

I enjoy controlled loneliness. I like wandering around the city alone. I’m not afraid of coming back to an empty flat and lying down in an empty bed. I’m afraid of having no one to miss, of having no one to love.

Kuba Wojewodzki, Polish journalist and comedian. (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(via lesscold)


Some symptoms, Dan Estabrook

He came into my class for a guest crit!

I am constantly torn between wanting to improve myself and wanting to destroy myself.

You may
blame Aphrodite

soft as she is

she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy.

Sappho, Blame Aphrodite (via camilla-macauley)

(via alonesomes)

(via langleav)

I’ve things to do today:
I must crush memory down,
I must turn my heart to stone,
I must try living, again.

Anna Akhmatova, from The Sentence (via baedd-lez)

(via fypoetry)

Photographs can cause anxiety because they are memories of a times past.


Drawings by Red Gella

(via vadasblog)