This was posted 17 hours ago. It has 0 notes. .
rachel sussman source it’s nice that

rachel sussman source it’s nice that

This was posted 2 days ago. It has 0 notes. .

back to that state. to that state again.
and then i smell fear creeping out from within.

This was posted 4 days ago. It has 0 notes.

(Source: nowness)

This was posted 4 days ago. It has 251 notes. .
cc: Ron Wan

http://www.ronwan.com

cc: Ron Wan

http://www.ronwan.com

This was posted 5 days ago. It has 0 notes. .
"We have everything, but that’s all we have."

"We have everything, but that’s all we have."

This was posted 5 days ago. It has 1 note. .
This was posted 5 days ago. It has 2 notes. .
'Long ago,' he said, 'long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.'
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Winter Dreams (via stxxz)

(via stxxz)

This was posted 6 days ago. It has 178 notes.
scandinaviancollectors:

Architecture photography by Nicholas Alan Cope. / Nicholas Alan Cope

scandinaviancollectors:

Architecture photography by Nicholas Alan Cope. / Nicholas Alan Cope

This was posted 6 days ago. It has 363 notes. .
nothingmorethanroses:

.

nothingmorethanroses:

.

This was posted 6 days ago. It has 2 notes. .
source oracle fox

source oracle fox

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 5 notes. .
source nowness

source nowness

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 4 notes. .
Maybe if I stop for a while writing about you, my pen would learn to stop teetering every time my heart speaks of your name. The damage you caused me cannot be measured by words nor by pain. For it’s the kind of ache that lingers in silence, the kind of suffering that even screams cannot contain, the kind of denial which perplexingly exists somewhere at the tip of my pen, or maybe on my finger. I cannot tell. Stop telling me that I just need to figure things out because you know nothing about the roaring heartbeats inside my chest. You know nothing of the castles I built for centuries which you just ruined telling me you could always build a new one for me. You know nothing about the poems I waited for years to flourish perfectly after all the tragedies I’ve been through. You know nothing about how much the sun struggled just to reflect its light to the dying moon in my lungs. You only know promises that rot, words that spite, charm that deceives, spells that destroy. Maybe if you could just write me a paragraph or just a sentence or two, about the times you’ve been true, maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much. Maybe I wouldn’t come up to writing you a farewell. Maybe I could have learned to heal. But I, endlessly hoping for your apology is a past I couldn’t return to anymore, you’re the maybe that will never be a maybe because there’s not a chance…you proved it to me a million times before.
maybe this will finally end here along with you | spilledraindrops (via spilledraindrops)
This was posted 1 week ago. It has 210 notes.
It was a clear night, especially after the storm passed. The rain washed away all the dust and dirt in the usually fuzzy air. Yet her heart was nothing like it. Her mind was muddy and blurry, and for the first time, she felt a sentiment inexplicable with her range of vocabulary, or acknowledged emotions list from her waking life.
Unlucky Rants
This was posted 1 week ago. It has 2 notes.

5:55 a.m.
Feels like vomiting.

This was posted 1 week ago. It has 0 notes.