That day, under the insolent sun, the miserable bar of my spirits was burning in hell, the devil playing limbo with it.
-Me, righ now in my essay.
"I have a question It might be strange How are your lungs? Are they in pain?"
Is not the lyrics I was expecting from a cutesy love song
I stopped drawing a long time ago, now my drawings look like shit
I kinda got my heart broken today and my first instinct was to aggressively write sad poetry
Not me crying
If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading
Listening Girl in red while scrolling through Pinterest´s tumblr fandom feels like being in a dream
like dying
TOH FAM… HOW WE FEELING…..