@mars-andro - Tumblr Blog

I will motherfucking be back. I am ready.

I'm so fucking tired

What a miserable fucking life to lead

Honestly I think I've moved past the point of grief and sorrow and straight into anger and embarrassment. The things I did for her, the things I tried, the things I bought. I ripped my heart out of my chest and pinned it to my sleeve even hoping maybe that would work and yet I danced around like a desperate, sick, colorless peacock while she secretly remained aloof and uninterested. While she tugged me along right behind her on the thinnest blood soaked thread known to man. While she held the truth from me for MONTHS with the excuse that she didn't want to hurt my feelings when really, I think she just didn't want to deal with the guilt. It didn't matter what I did, she hated all of it and told me she loved it, that she wanted more. She just let me go on with wishful thinking, letting me hope I was making some sort of a difference when she hadn't cared for not even god knows how long. It's embarrassing the things I tried to try and keep her, and I am so angry she just let me continue doing as such knowing full well it wasn't making even a bit of difference. I was too dumb and blind enough to even notice the vast difference between the assortment of things I tried to save our relationship when she hardly cared enough anymore to even try. Self-centered fucking liar.

I do nothing but ruin things

Why does she hate me so much?

Why was I not enough?

skylark-234

"The true horror of existence is not the fear of death, but the fear of life. It is the fear of waking up each day to face the same struggles, the same disappointments, the same pain. It is the fear that nothing will ever change, that you are trapped in a cycle of suffering that you cannot escape. And in that fear, there is a desperation, a longing for something, anything, to break the monotony, to bring meaning to the endless repetition of days."

- Albert Camus, The Fall

hercolloquy

— Albert Camus, from Notebooks, 1951-1959

lunamonchtuna

— Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance (July 17, 1949) (via lunamonchtuna)

Never know, never you know.

I just want to know what I did wrong man. I don't understand. I did everything. I did everything. I did everything. I did everything. I did everything. I did everything.

Oh my God I've actually given up

Dude I don't know what the actual fuck is wrong with me

Words genuinely cannot describe how painful this feeling is. I can't fucking move

What a cruel place to be

I absolutely FUCKING hate this town

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