p r o f e s s i o n a l nobody
I much prefer natural girls. girls who dont wear make up. whose diet consists mostly of soil and mulch. maybe they have an elk as a steed. still use primitive flint based weapons. never seen a lighter before.
(via tersaudades)
one day i will stop caring about boys and focus all my attention on killing the rich
You are a perfect angel
some cute boys dress fine -not great, but fine, and then you look down and they are wearing bad shoes, and the colour drains from your vision, the edges blur, and everything they could have been to you is now an impossibility
I would rather die I would rather die Than to be with you
“ What was it about this unlovable century that convinced us we were, despite everything, eminently lovable as a people, as a species? What made us think that anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking, malfunctioning in some way? And particularly if they replace us with a god, or a weeping madonna, or the face of Christ in a ciabatta roll—-then we call them crazy. Deluded. Regressive. We are so convinced of the goodness of ourselves, and the goodness of our love, we cannot bear to believe that there might be something more worthy of love than us, more worthy of worship. Greeting cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all the time.
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Zadie Smith, White Teeth
(Source: larmoyante)
“ My one fear – surely nothing worse can either be said or listened to – is that I shall never be able to possess you. At best I would be confined, like an unthinkingly faithful dog, to kissing your casually proffered hand, which would not be a sign of love, but of the despair of the animal condemned to silence and eternal separation. I would sit beside you and, as has happened, feel the breath and life of your body at my side, yet in reality be further from you than now, here in my room. I would never be able to attract your attention, and it would be lost to me altogether when you look out of the window, or lay your head in your hands. You and I would ride past the entire world, hand in hand, seemingly united, and none of it would be true. In short, though you might lean towards me far enough for you to be in danger, I would be excluded from you for ever.
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Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice
ain’t it though…
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via losed)
