Hey guys, hope your skin is clear and you get a text from someone you like real soon.

75,762 notes
may something
comfort you—a mockingbird, a breeze, rain
on the roof, Chopin’s Nocturnes, a kiss,
or even me—in my chilly kitchen
with my coat on—thinking of you.
― Ellen Bass, from Insomnia (via violentwavesofemotion)
1,138 notes
She gave up
self-respect for
a fixation that
drained her of
all exuberance.

She is proof that
zombies exist.
Noor Shirazie (via aestheticintrovert)
82 notes
The painting of flowers
next to the painting of flames,
and I remember that time, years ago,
when the psychiatrist said, “You feel too much,
you are too sensitive, take these,”

giving me a bottle of pills. I took them
to the beach, watched light become flame
on the water, and along the ragged cliffs,
small flowers like blue stars,
the world a painting
I couldn’t live in.
I opened the bottle, then put it down,
pills spilling on the sand.
Waves carried the flames
and didn’t mind the burning,
the arising from and disappearing
into the vastness. I swam,
let the waves take me,
then treaded water, looking at the sky,
a silver tray full
of the most beautiful nothing.
I swam back, the water was black,
I could sink beyond caring,
but I wanted to live,
to be there
with the beauty and the burning
and let it be too much.
― Susan Browne, from In The Art Gallery  (via violentwavesofemotion)
625 notes
You don’t need to be taught to cry.
The soul presses a button.
Is the cry saying something?
Does it mean help?
Or hello?
― Anne Sexton, from Hurry Up Please It’s Time (via violentwavesofemotion)
399 notes
It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.
― F. Scott Fitzgerald  (via hardcore)

(Source: gordftw)

167,430 notes