Do not ignore it. Fuck it. Cry your heart out. Then fuck it some more.
Charles Bukowski, from Selected Letters Vol. 4 (via valley-child)
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via anusicae)
10427
(Source: sheshallhave, via feelingsofthesecondarycharacters)
(Source: coffeforclosers, via feelingsofthesecondarycharacters)
(Source: violent-vengeance, via pweatherfieldd)
I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.
Margaret Atwood (via vvolare)
(via bookgasms)
I’m sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody.
J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey (via stuff—n—things)
(via delusyum)
I love the silent hour of night, for blissful dreams may then arise, revealing to my charmed sight what may not bless my waking eyes.
― Anne Brontë, Best Poems of the Brontë Sisters (via dimensional-sorceress)
(via myownliteraryself)
Imagination on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/51488893/via/I_Live_To_Love_You
