things i wrote

late night musings of my sleep-deprived mind

[the-book-diaries]

“Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don’t work.”

— James Frey, A Million Little Pieces

[untamedunwanted]

“Most times, falling in love is letting your soft, innocent heart getting into a car with a dangerous stranger and just praying nothing bad happens to it.”

— Nikita Gill

[somepiecesofmyheartandsoul-deac]

“My dear, loving is easy. It has always been the easiest thing in life, to love and to give. So what is the hardest part? It is to be loved in return, to receive all of the things that the universe think you deserve. To be the cup waiting to be filled, rather than to be the pouring water, is the toughest thing, if you ask me.”

— Lukas W. // A giver

[i-wrotethisforme]

When I’m with him he acts like I’m the brightest thing in his world. He makes me believe that I actually mean something to him. And then I leave and it’s like I might as well have never been there. It’s nice to feel wanted when I’m there but it’s more important to feel wanted when I’m not. Because it’s easy to think about someone when they’re with you, what I need is someone who’s going to think about me when I’m not standing in front of him in a low cut shirt.

(via i-wrotethisforme)

[lazyyogi]

We are the universe pretending to be individuals.

Deepak Chopra (via lazyyogi)

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?” - Don DeLillo, White Noise

via @the-book-diaries

[l8nightmusing-blog]

Love is the antagonist. 

He is the villain – the master thief. 

Just when you’ve locked your front door, he opens a window. 

He barges into your living room and makes himself  at home. 

He rummages greedily through your cupboards in search for sustenance to satiate his hunger. 

With a  cereal bowl full of your deepest thoughts and late night anecdotes, he sits on your worn out couch and flips through the shows on television - as if it was an existing routine. 

As if he was a permanent occupant, a stain on the carpet that doesn’t come off no matter how many times you’ve scrubbed it with bleach. 

He sneaks into your bed at the dead of night, and whispers you lullabies. And just in the wee hours of morning, 

right when you’ve only just begun to get used to his steady, warm breath on your neck, 

you hear the mattress creak, 

and just like that your bare neck suddenly feels cold from the window he left open on his way out – and your chest 

suddenly feels hollow as he runs away with your heart jangling in his pockets along with all the other things he robbed you of.  

- ry japzon