(Source: halgae, via hellyeaprettythings)
6,470,818,671
“ We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
Charles Bukowski (via troubled)
“ And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
Kurt Vonnegut (via troubled)
Why am I sad?
The world may never know.
“ We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering - these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love - these are what we stay alive for.
Dead Poet’s Society
(Source: amateurofsourapples)
Currently watching Dead Poet’s Society. I have my Kleenex ready.
(Source: littleblueparis)
My sweet baby.
(Source: this-old-piano)
Marc Jacobs
(via hellyeaprettythings)
Just keep your head above.
There’s a great desperation in the ache of being at the bottom. It’s rock bottom and you’re in a hole where the sun only merely shines a glimpse into your pupil. The feeling gets in your bones and your whole body aches. You speak in a language that doesn’t feel like your own. You shiver at your own sorrows, and others wince and frown because they wish to plaster the lively smile you once had back on your face. There’s a discouragement in the mirror where your eyes meet your own; the mirror of thought. You look at yourself, but you aren’t there. All you see is a mutilated creature whose skin sags with guilt and is scarred with mistakes. They are so simple, but you are the blueprint for going in circles. You never meant to get here. Somewhere you made a wrong turn. Somewhere you got lost. But you are here, and the light at the end of the tunnel is only a freight train headed your way. There’s an ocean in your throat and you’re weakened by the heavy waves. What if you stopped breathing; would the waves take your body to the shore? There’s a deep sadness in the pain of being in the middle of nowhere. It’s the middle of the ocean, and the only frail hope you have is to swim, to keep swimming, even if your breath is short and your arms are heavy.
Just keep your head above. Just keep your head above. Just keep your head above. Swim.
