January 2010
74 posts
1364.) We've talked online for months. We're in...
(via blogconfession)
suicideunderground:
Everything Follows | Beat...
I honestly wish I had a friend that liked the same...
suicideunderground:
sophiejade:nostalgicdreams:palehearts:(via vertebrates)
She has a British accent,
or a Southern drawl, and she can speak with her mouth brimming full of cigarette smoke.
You know she killed her parents because they physically abused her; but if they’re alive, she’s disowned them because they’re billionaires. She has no one to answer to. She does not have her G.E.D. or a beautician’s license. There’s no canopy bed crowded with stuffed animals where...
18) And for it hurts, you want your skin to follow you in narrow traces, Small attorneys of dementia, they will be called
17) Ambivalence: a state of having simultaneous, conflicting feelings toward a person or thing.[1] Stated another way, ambivalence is the experience of having thoughts and emotions of both positive and negative valence toward someone or something. A common example of ambivalence is the feeling of both love and hate for a person.
Reason 2
[I had this guy leave me a voicemail at work, so I called him at home, and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry, and so I texted to his cell, and now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.]
He’s Just Not That Into You, the movie
Borderline ecuation
10. [Violently happy] + [Deeply disturbed] + [Homesick]*[Anxious+Malicious] - Sleep = future borderline with guests*. * we are already three, but we might have offsprings.
5. Every minute, of every hour, of every day.
9. Tell me you love, come back and haunt me
6. My post New Year depression is fueled by a well-known inconsistency of self-confidence. Myself, you should be shot. Ghrrr!!!
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Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
4. and the good times. Twenty was so good, fuck damn it! Cigarettes where cheaper, the summer wasn’t over. The city, the clubs, the sand, the tables we sat at and those that we danced on. The dots I used to wear, my hair you used to love. I had two boyfriends, drank beer outside and met someone different almost every day. We didn’t call you Bird back then, but I loved you. We used to have more...
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2. I really miss having a boyfriend.
[Tori over The Cure]
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[Struck by the sound]
I think this is the sexiest...
2 tags
Tôt le matin, quand il était encore temps
Nineteen is like Pure Morning of Placebo. The morning to come soon, where you can breathe no matter how much it haunts you, you can forget without a place to hide. And there’s Twenty two , the sort of morning which expands, degenerates and becomes this flat strip, where you can still run, but where sometime around your last days in the age time stops fitting your own size. When she was 22 the...
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What lingered after them was not life, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself
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900.) I love him and he loves me. I hate that we...
(via blogconfession)
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901.) I love you. More than the air that I...
(via blogconfession)
Amanda Palmer/June is busting out all over
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Marla: I got this dress at a thrift store for $1.
Jack: It was worth every penny.
Marla: It’s a bridesmaid’s dress. Someone loved it intensely for one day. Then tossed it, like a Christmas tree. So special. Then bam! It’s on the side of the road. Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Jack: Well then, it suits you.
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There I was
suffocating in front of my closet, unable to decide what to wear on the first last date of my life.
“What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who...”
– (via sunsetandpolaroids)
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We’ll both forget to breathe, most of the time
I miss how we worked together, how we spent evenings in bed doing nothing, how my dresses used to fit your t-shirts. I miss your hands in my hair and I miss wearing your clothes at work and eating from the same dinner plate. I miss summer with your friends and dancing our feet off on Friday nights. And I can’t seem to shake this habit of wanting to call you, of wanting to know I can go somewhere...
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The drought
I wish I could sleep. For days, for months, at least for a few hours. At least between seven and eight a m, without this fever I can’t control, that makes my knees weak and my arms impatient, that stops my heart at times and then accelerates it in ways so unbearable. That makes my fingers find their way inside me with no hope for relief and turns my face more pale with every passing minute. ...