An intimate relationship does not banish loneliness. Only when we are...– Patricia Fry (via anally)
Ponder the Obvious.: September 19. →
mystrangesilhouettes: I get lost in the smallest of spaces——between my low self-esteem and vanity. I get lost in them when I get to see my reflection in your deep brown eyes. Like warm chocolate they are, ordinary at best, yet still unnerving to behold of. You ask me to be just with myself. To see the beauty that lies…
Last time we talked you forgot who I was...... You...
Desitny Marie July 13, 2012 Why is everytime we try to explain ourselves it never works out? It’s no one wants to take the time to understand us. It’s like no one wants to try and make things better. Some people don’t understand that talking is better. It makes things easier. Getting frustrated doesn’t always work. But what should I expect. You don’t care about me, What I have to say, Or...
Constantly being in fear of loosing something you...
Me: fine ignore me, but next time you want to talk to me ill be busy jumping off a cliff.
Him: Where will u find one
Me: I have my cliffs.
Him: No u do not
Me: yes I do there's one in woodstock and one by my sisters house...
Him: No u will not do it
In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you...– Mitch Albom, Five People You Meet in Heaven (via bookmania)
I’ve always had a terrible weakness for beautiful but sad things.– Sylvain Reynard, Gabriel’s Inferno (via larmoyante)
I think it was mostly truth that I was after. I know now that truth is a...– Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty To Think So? (via aliyaxoxo)
If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could...– Charles Bukowski (Factotum)
And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain...– Douglas Coupland, Life After God (via 4mbivalent)
He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where...– Leo Tolstoy (via larmoyante)
Or maybe it’s just that beautiful things are so easily broken by the world.– Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels (via 4mbivalent)
dreams-myths-ideals: (Baby) The baby with crystallized eyes Reborn —- after every disaster Does it shock? With silence that pierces, drawing Blood from lost ears Peel back the warnings written in The clouds Your dreams The devils speech How quaint, the baby’s thumb enclosing Your toes, leaving rot in its wake The baby is made of pure water Where does it waddle to? The duel certain to capture...