February 2012
16 posts
“I don’t consider myself a pessimist. I think of a pessimist as someone who is...”
– Leonard Cohen (via dolces)
“I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that...”
– Virginia Woolf, Night and Day (via serialstranger)
“Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your...”
– Juliet Marillier, Daughter of the Forest (via serialstranger)
“Have you ever left your life was somehow slipping away? And there was nothing...”
– Downton Abbey
“And yet when I am at my sickest, I put a huge amount of effort into fooling...”
– Cat Marnell
“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer (via dolces)
“I think I’m in love with missing you more than I’m in love with you.”
– Sylvia Plath (via tiffanydeenise)
I pick the same scab every day.
At this rate, it will never heal.
I’m not speaking metaphorically—though the metaphor still applies—I have a scratch on my back above my right shoulder blade, and somehow, every day, I manage to absentmindedly scratch it (it itches!) and reopen it.
Today, my blood looked neon.
I pressed a paper towel against it to keep any droplets from getting on my shirt and when I pulled...
“The kickstand is gone, the tether unwound and I am drifting in every sense. I am...”
– (via theretohearit)(via beenthinking)