reality is slipping slowly through my fingers
and this world is ever becoming less and less tangible.
i am a blur,
a whirlwind of unrealized joy,
waiting until the facade can no longer keep the darkness away.
i sit and wait to break.
"Art is to console those who are broken by life."
— Vincent Van Gogh (via thosedaysatthebeach)
(Source: jemexcusemaman, via thegreatimposter)
"So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger - because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being."
— Jack Kerouac (via thatkindofwoman)
(Source: wordsnquotes, via thatkindofwoman)
"She’s known sadness, and it has made her kind."
— Nathan Filer, The Shock of the Fall (via booknarcs)
(Source: booksquoteslove, via booknarcs)
whose arms would I run and fall into
if I were drunk
in a room with everyone
I have ever loved."
Unknown (via moonsads)
This. This. This.
(Source: pastell-lips, via evemeanslively)
"I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death."
— Eleanor & Park (via instantquotemeal)
the negativity is brewing,
solid and dense in my chest,
rigorously swelling through my veins.
it’s thick and greasy,
staining my blood black with doubt.
there is nothing that i am,
only all the things i am not.
and today held so much promise…….
"Buying a book is not about obtaining a possession, but about securing a portal."
— Laura Miller (via thatkindofwoman)
(Source: littledallilasbookshelf, via siriusorionblack)