do you come here often?

Master of the art of fucking everything up royally. You know how it is. Eternally brainwashed by over-romanticized movies and books and as a result is constantly disappointed by the real world. 

[zsww-moved-to-pillowfort-deacti]

I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things.

[coral]

At two o’clock in the morning, if you open your window and listen, You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun. And the trees in the Shadow rustle and the trees in the moonlight glisten, And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is done.

Rudyard Kipling (via feellng)

[gifsboom]

[tastefullyoffensive]

Video: Meet Quasimodo, the Hunchback Hound

[rosespell]

[diana-shortgalpal]

#nose boop 2.0

[andreaevolves]

[callistomist-deactivated2020091]

“I don’t know what it is but I can feel myself getting bad again. It could be from the sleepless nights or maybe from the thought of you leaving… possibly not caring. I know people can walk out of your life, it happens regularly. But I never thought it would be you to leave after these countless promises. I can feel my head aching, my eyes are burning and pouring for help. This lump in my throat won’t leave and I’m scared that if I want it to get better, it means I have to try and remember who I was. I don’t think I can do that. Why? I constantly think why. Maybe retracing my steps? Or maybe that’s the problem… I keep going back to people who hurt me to only find wreckage and more broken promises.  Maybe if my voice was softer, my skin was clearer, my height shorter, my tummy flatter, my legs thinner, then maybe I could have been enough. I want to be beautiful. I want to be more than broken branches, more than the constellations they call freckles, I want to be more than just the veins that I tear open just to find that making myself bleed will not get rid of the thoughts that are implanted on my thighs. There are more memories there than the ones I can remember of me smiling. Smiling? Something I do when I’m happy. Yes, there are times when i’m happy. Yes, there are times when I’m laughing so hard I feel a six pack coming but at the end of every laugh I stop and realise that this is temporary. They forget to mention that the happiness is temporary too. That the time I spent with loving you was temporary. I don’t want it to be temporary.  I want to feel something other than the burning once making contact with water in the shower. My head spins and the headaches make me feel weak and unreliable. Why can’t someone notice I’m not okay.  They tend to care more about physical pain. Then again, my last attempt I lay there to die hearing “good, let her do it”. It’s like my death will become a birthday party for another (more better) daughter. Or maybe even son, because perhaps being female was a burden for you. I really just want someone to care. I feel like I could scream and the fire could still be flickering in my chest, that the burning sensation isn’t only from the weight I try to throw up. I’m sorry for not being the person everyone expects or wants me to be… It’s just I’m hurting so much and I want it to stop. I want the thoughts to stop. I need more air and care but I’m stuck here slowly killing myself and I honestly think that people would be more concerned about the carpet or the fact that they have to buy more pills. That’s the problem. I’m a doormat that never even gets walked on. I’m invisible unless needed and even then I’m only there to help others, never myself. So when I tell you I’m not okay please listen. My heart feels heavy, I want it all to stop but I can’t stop myself from feeling self-destructive, like now. I want it to stop please. Make it stop. Or else I might be visiting my little brother sooner than I thought…” I understand that this is all over the place and probably doesn’t make a lot of sense but I wrote this right before my last suicide attempt, so this is very personal for me. This was around July last year. Reading over this hurt me more than ever though but I’m glad to say I can not relate to everything I wrote this day now. I’m getting better. I made it to 2015 stronger than ever when I thought I couldn’t, I’ve managed to last 3 months without self-harming and I’m planning on going all year without it. I rarely get the suicidal thoughts any more. It gets better. I am proof. 

[lolawashere-deactivated20240904]

Tom Hiddleston as Dr Robert Laing in High-Rise and he doesn’t look too happy…

From Torrilla/weibo

[mitten]

[thoughts-memories]

[overfierce]

You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.

Benjamin Mee, We Bought a Zoo (via overfierce)

[readytogogetmeoutofmymind]

[cartoonnetwork]

You have brains in your head You have feet in your shoes You can steer yourself any direction you choose 

Happy Dr. Seuss Day!

🎨: Marlo Meekins http://bit.ly/1LV8o9F

[mscommunikation]

Visit Original Link

[coolthingoftheday]

[stayygone]

I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out. You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness. You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do so whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.

HE.   (via itcuddles)

[flmblr]

We didn't have a stick of furniture. We would have picnics in the living room. We ate when we felt like it. Stayed up all night when we wanted. We vowed never to fall into routine, to go to bed or wake up at the same time. We lived on that mattress.