" Know this and know it
more than you’ve ever
bothered to understand
anything before: I am,
as lonely as they come.
As empty as they make them.
There is a reason my liver
is filled with whiskey.
A cloaked rhyme to why my
lungs have fallen in love
with smoke.
I am lonely.
But I have come to the
conclusion that loneliness,
no matter how often it weighs
the soul, is sometimes,
a beautiful thing.
by Christopher Poindexter (via sad-plath)

(Source: sad-plath, via weirdestmelancholia)

1,843 notes • 6:39 PM
" Eu não tinha interesses. Eu não tinha interesses por nada. Não fazia a mínima ideia de como iria escapar. Os outros, ao menos, tinham algum gosto pela vida. Pareciam entender algo que me era inacessível. Talvez eu fosse retardado. Era possível. Frequentemente me sentia inferior. Queria apenas encontrar um jeito de me afastar de todo mundo. Mas não havia lugar para ir. Suicídio? Jesus Cristo, apenas mais trabalho. Sentia que o ideal era poder dormir por uns cinco anos, mas isso eles não permitiriam. "
by Charles Bukowski, Misto Quente.  (via nevou)

(Source: desafagos, via nevou)

332 notes • 6:37 PM
" She did not want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired. "
by Virginia Woolf, The Years (via misswallflower)
" Almost.
It’s a big word for me.
I feel it everywhere.
Almost home.
Almost happy.
Almost changed.
Almost, but not quite.
Not yet.
Soon, maybe.
I’m hoping hard for that.
by Joan Bauer, Almost Home (via plasticpixie)

(Source: larmoyante, via burgundythoughts)

" I’d like to destroy you a few times in bed. "
by Ernest Hemingway, from The Snows of Kilimanjaro   (via pasdesolee)

Really though

(via es-py)

(Source: books.google.com, via burgundythoughts)

" I like my hair messy. My love wild. And my sex aggressive. But I’m still a sensitive woman, just with passion. "
by Sade Harrison (via wildsultrys0ul)

(via burgundythoughts)

" Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. "
by Flannery O’Connor, Wise Blood (via observando)

I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be the memory you have when you propose to her. As you slide that ring on her finger you’ll think about that time we got dressed in our swankiest threads and had a horrible time at that party so we came back home and sat in an empty bath tub drinking whiskey outta the bottle talking about our childhood dreams.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be that memory whenever you and her get in an argument. you’ll recall our first fight and the endless glares and icy tones. Repetition of words like RESPECT and WHY rung through the stillness of the air. We almost ended that night. Thankfully you stopped me from walking out of that door.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be that memory when you have your first child. When you and your wife are picking out names you’ll remember our talk about our future. Our apartment layout and first pet. A dog named Pascal because I’m allergic to cats.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be the girl you fall for when you are too young to understand what falling really is. You’ll fuck up and lose me. You won’t realize it until a while later. But when you do, you’ll think about me everyday. Forever.

by you’ll miss me- jlw (via burgundythoughts)
A girl canal dream (via universal-crush)

(via langleav)