Coffee and Cigarettes @facetsofthjewel-blog - Tumblr Blog

I don’t give a shit what the world thinks. I was born a bitch, I was born a painter, I was born fucked. But I was happy in my way. You did not understand what I am. I am love. I am pleasure, I am essence, I am an idiot, I am an alcoholic, I am tenacious. I am; simply I am…You are a shit.

Frida Kahlo, from an unsent letter to Diego Rivera (via babyspooks)

random--happenings-blog-blo-blo

graysonvaughan91-deactivated201

hallway

#the void

mkbc

professionalsociopath

a long time

It’s five AM and I’m awake again and that isn’t at all surprising because its the same as it always is.

The nights and days are all just one big mass of grey and the colours of sunrise are so muted and the stars try with such apathetic effort to shine through the smog and I find myself not knowing what day it is what week it is what year it is and when I’m asked how old I am I have to stop and think about it for a fraction too long and that hesitation jars me more than anything except a moment later I no longer care.

I have not been writing as frequently, but I maintain my social circle and put on the new masks and the re-painted faces and dance that pre-determined waltz with practiced ease because I’ve trained myself to function on auto-pilot by now. Spent years crafting this skill, this talent, this whole little world I live in but disassociate from more often than not. I see the world in dollhouse dimensions, perfect little puppets moving on strings gliding on stages, mouths moving while words come spoken from scripts and all the camera angles are askew and the cuts jarring, sometimes nauseating to the eye.

My life is crammed with impulse buys and shallow friendships and lip service and kissed cheeks shaken hands another drink cheers raise a glass congratulations darling that dress looks divine.

All I eat is instant coffee because I can’t stand to look at myself when my 32” slacks are ever so snug and I just keep myself empty in every way possible because that’s just within my comfort zone.

i have galaxies hidden between my bones and i will love you until the stars burn out.

Unknown (via cemetery)

bw

seabois

No matter how often I think I can’t stand it anymore, I always do. There is no alternative. I don’t fall, I don’t foam at the mouth, faint, collapse or die. It’s the same for all of us. You can’t get out of the inside of your own head. Something keeps you going. Something always does.

Janice Galloway, The Trick Is to Keep Breathing (via seabois)