#sad texts

[mlnchlicsoul]

This society is not even worth living in

[missmiseery]

I have nowhere to go, and what can I do ? Go. The stars still there and the sun shine, and will shine for the next 5 million years at least. The road is in front of me, looking beautiful, dangerous, suggestive. I have nowhere to go so I keep going. The mountains are so big and I want to be above it all. I find some beautiful places but they would be even more beautiful if I was with you. I have nowhere to go, where did i live before ? I saw a black cat and it reminds me of the times I've spent at home, listen to vinyls and crying. I have nowhere to go, where was you when I asked you to come with me ? I saw a girl with flowers in her hair, she reminds me of you. Now I only have my bag and a aching in my heart. Who was she ? I have nowhere to go, but a friend told he was going to find a place for me to stay. But whenever my feet don't move, my entire body act like it's sick, so I can't stay I can't stay. I have nowhere to go, but if someone could be my home, it would be you. I have nowhere to go, so l keep going. I keep going.

[nightmare--gal]

[luluscreed]

[a-lion-roars]

@oldglvry​ | wanted a starter !

Every so often, England had nights like this. Nights where he would drink himself into a stupor and think of things long buried, things he couldn’t bear to think about. Usually they ended after an extended period of brewing within his own well of self-hatred before he forced himself to have a lie-down, to pass out ‘til morning.

This particular time was different in that he clawed himself out of his typical routine. The urge to reach out to Liberty was a strong one—a misplaced one, perhaps. His temple pressed against the coolness of the wooden leg of his settee as he pulled his phone out of his pocket against his better judgement; blinking blearily at the bright screen, working his tongue between his teeth.

And he shouldn’t, really. It wasn’t her problem. 

His thumb drifted across the screen haphazardly; typing in a hardly coherent mess that required several rewrites until it was up to his inebriated specifications. 

[ TEXT : ‘BERTY ] Hello [ TEXT : ‘BERTY ] I jsut wanted to let you know [ TEXT : ‘BERTY ] That you’r e really good and I miss you loads

His fingers were itchy; wanting to add more. He stopped himself before he could get too keen, before he could tack on something he would regret later.

[missmiseery]

Out of the dream, reality shapes itself through my window. I open my eyes and walk out of bed, and something better or worse than existence waits for me. Where did I leave my dreams ? What did I even dreamt about ? There’s a bird outside my window singing his songs. I like to think he’s singing for the things he longer wishes. I dream about hope and freedom. But I can’t remember what it looks like. I look in the mirror and the pathetic figure standing looks back at me, waiting for me to say something. I don’t say anything. I’m all alone. I walk through the house just to check out if the things are where I left them, just to see if the dust has already covered the furniture. Not yet. I open the window and smile. The sun is in my skin. I feel how it embraces me and I receive it with my heart open. Maybe that’s a bit what hope looks like. 

Inside the dream, there’s no hope left. I look at the window and wait for what’s not coming back home.

“Where have you been ?”

“So far.”

“Are you staying ?”

“No.”

“Did you miss me ?”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“It was cold ?”

“Quite.”

“I could’ve held you.”

“You could.”

“Please.”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Will you miss me ?”

“I’ll miss the warmth of your hands.”

"It's enough.”