This is unlike the story it was written to be.
I was riding it’s back, when it used to ride me.
I have read the right books to interpret your looks; you were knocking me down with the palm of your eye.
as i listen to seventeen for what seems to be the millionth time, i have somehow digressed onto a major nostalgia kick. looking through millions of photos on facebook is helping to quell all the idealistic feelings i’ve been having all day. i can’t let my guard down.
my heart has never been so over-flowingly teeming with mixed emotion. rarely does it see this much hope, admiration, excitement, and joy. but on the other hand, it barely has ever experienced anything comparable to just the surface of the iceberg of resentment and criticism that dwells within it now. and where does this constant mix of turmoil leave me? weary, alone, and baffled.
enjoyyoursymptoms: I used to look/feel great in businesswear and now its mad awkward #help havin the same problem.
just one of those days
where absolutely everything feels wrong and out of place.
this isn't happiness.: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s... →
nevver: Days of this February were white and magical, the nights were starry and crystalline. The town lay under a cold glory. Dyed Siberian horse. As thin as a repeated dream. The sea was coming up in little intimidating rushes. The island floated, a boat becalmed, upon the almost perceptible…
Epic Fish Collapse →
seanlennon: This article is terrifying. I think everyone should read it. Please reblog. apropos my job/daily work
that awful moment...
when you’re watching your heart break and life as you once knew, it fall to pieces. But then, you can’t do a damn thing about it.
the rime of sarah
Water, water, every where, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink.