Listening to Rain Down On Me by Kane

– Preview it on Path.

When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial.

Fernando Pessoa (via theglasschild)

She lives the poetry she cannot write.

Oscar Wilde (via antiquedvintage)

Listening to Crazy Life by Toad the Wet Sprocket

Crazy Life… – Preview it on Path.

The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her.

Frank Sinatra   (via hollygohardly)

I can’t think again. Not ever again. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that.

Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower (via 4mbivalent)

I wish I could have the ability to write down the feelings I have now while I’m still little, because when I grow up I will know how to write, but I will have forgotten what being little feels like.

Sylvia Plath, age 8  (via littlebluepenguin)

It’s not the load that breaks you down. It’s the way you carry it.

C.S. Lewis (via fleshscars)