March 2011
What is this presence
which enthralls me, like my own voice echoed in a dark cave? This absence which petrifies me, like an empty house or a bluff’s rough face?
Who is this person?
So unlike a red rose? So unlike a lace-trimmed heart? So much more like poison, or sawdust, or spoiled milk? Bitter, chemical, and gray. Dusty, cold, and sweet.
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Wearing my ex-boyfriend's jeans
gives the same comfort as looking at photographs of dead friends.
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“It is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in...”
– Carl Sagan
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Purrrrrr,
purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
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“I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”
– Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower (via superherostephanie)
Never a whore,
but rather progressive; European.
“Who gives a fuck what these people think? Everyone is too obsessed with what...”
– Claire Fisher, Six Feet Under (via amandafaceobv)
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