When I’m lying in my bed, I think about life and I think about death and neither one particularly appeals to me.
— Morrissey (via bigbrat) (via newyorkcanwait) (via canadawhore) (via naturaldisaster-22) (via deliriant, mud-luscious)
- insatiablebliss
I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
— Sylvia Plath (via suzywire)
(via sgsecrets)
I had no illusions about love anymore. It came, it went, it left casualties or it didn’t. People weren’t meant to be together forever, regardless of what the songs say.
— (via eletheowl)
“You know that feeling that you’re about to be sick? Where you lurch over the toilet or sink or just any convenient corner, and are all too aware of what’s creeping back up you throat, defying gravity, and you just want it out and over with. You’re scared to breathe. That is how I feel every time I look in the mirror, or think of what I’ve done to myself and others, or what possesses my mind when I try to sleep. If that answers your question then yes, I do hate myself.”
