(Source: aidsnegligee, via in-the-midst-of-winter)
I was with someone for a few weeks. And then I realized the only time I had fun with him was when we were in bed. So I left him. He gave me an Edgar Allan Poe book today. And now I feel like a bitch.
But you can’t force feelings. I can’t help that I like gettin’ frisky.
I can’t help that I can’t get over my ex-boyfriend who brutally crushed my soul, and made me icy towards other people.
Right?
BUT, on the other hand
I’m talking to a lovely boy a bit, and going out with him this weekend. But then there’s the downfall here, too…he’s nearly four years older.
We didn’t use sticks, we used our lies.
We used our truths, we used our past.
We used our nights, we used our days.
We spent time in the cold.
I got hypothermia
And you got new gloves.
We set fire to Alaska
But I can’t get warm.
Rachael’s Note: Just really caught my attention.
I know a girl
who wears innocence
like a sundress
setting every night
around her ankles
and every night
there is a boy
with kerosenein his eyes
that she turns to
and sometimes
that boy is me
Gerald Scarfe,
Pink Floyd The Wall.
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.
I’m good at fucking life up
I’m good at fucking people up.
The one thing I didn’t fuck up,
the one person I didn’t fuck up,
fucked me up.
(Source: nerdfightaaah, via supprosetry)
(Source: shellwithoutsea)
