you are my last love

dina, 17. we probably won't talk.

sad-idol (via sad-idol)

(via sad-idol)

I broke my own heart loving you

Henry Rollins  (via exoticwild)

(Source: in-finitus, via satansbuttcrack)

I don’t want people to matter to me too much. Sometimes it hurts too much to think about them. Ones you love who don’t love you, ones who are dead or hate you, ones who you think about but never get to be with. I like people but when I get too close, it fucks me up and I can’t get things done.

C. S. Lewis (via breakandheal)

(Source: psych-facts, via sexpansion)

Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn.

#127: (February 3, 2014)

(Source: write2014, via ggremmie)

You deserve the kind of love you would give someone else.


if u think depression or anxiety is “quirky” or “cute” you can have mine because I dont wanna deal with it

(Source: radicultist, via satansbuttcrack)

(via yungbegonia)

(via hydroponicc)

I want to run away but I don’t have anything bad to run away from. I would be running away from my self, but that seems kind of counter intuitive.

C.S. Lewis (via perfect)

(Source: larmoyante, via sexpansion)

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.

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