I die only for me / Only when I drown am I enough / On any land
Julian Randall, from “NarcissusI worry that my friends
will misunderstand my silenceas a lack of love, or interest, instead
of a tent city built for my own mind— Tarfia Faizullah, from “Poem Full of Worry Ending with My Birth,” published in Poem-a-Day
He pretends that he’s OK
But you should see
Him in bed late at night
He’s petrified
She looked away. I thought she was looking for another cigarette. Then I saw she was crying.
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (via hellish-daddy)My heart wasn’t supposed to break for an almost lover. But it did.
And God, it hurt like hell.
My mother told me I can get addicted to meth, cocaine, vodka, whiskey, and cigarettes. She told me those things can get trapped within my veins, and flush me down a hole. I’ve never gotten addicted to the deadly things my mother told me about. But I got addicted to a human with a destructive soul, and I swear I wish I got addicted to the things my mother told me not to because they don’t have a soul to run away from me.
Alexa Evangelista (via vodkakilledtheteen)If you’re the kind of person with “unfollowing anxiety” I want you to know it’s okay to unfollow me
I don’t care if we’re mutuals, friends in real life, family, whatever
You aren’t obligated to follow me, I don’t keep track of followers/unfollowers, I don’t “do inventory” and see if my mutuals are still following me, and I definitely don’t ever “call out” someone for unfollowing me