(Source: peau-rose, via unholybible)
(Source: peau-rose, via unholybible)
(Source: wytches, via unholybible)
(Source: lovedbyallbut1, via kennedyholmes)
I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with. I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person’s attitude so that they wouldn’t get any closer. I didn’t easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music.
– Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via stastopojo)
(Source: thechocolatebrigade, via strawberryemotions)
its this feeling that ebbs from my gut. oxygen is cut And the space surrounding me expands reducing my physical existence
I pounded my right thigh repeatedly
A fucking wake the fuck up
I start to notice the surface of my skin burning cold
And my joints mimicking molten
In my head I run off a cliff
My limbs spread out in every direction floating stiff
these dull aches succeed into stabbing gestures
Sacrifice advertising endurance
These commercials are louder than the episode
I’m Rotating gashes
Pride
Indifference
Dissatisfaction
Hollowed out like a fucking pumpkin
Ninny pissy baby what have you got to prove?
(Source: utaupe, via unholybible)
(via grimbiddy)
(via grimbiddy)
(Source: grimbiddy)
(via notnaturallyevil)
(Source: acephallus, via grimbiddy)
(Source: mnvxzpytr, via cruisesforbruises)
