The Sheer Intimacy Of Getting A Used Book, Seeing A Stranger’s Annotations On It, And Feeling So Utterly

Doesn't the ice hurt when we skate on her?

Hundreds of blades cutting through her skin

But she doesn't cry, she resist as she hurts

When she is carrying all these lovebirds

To feel like being killed as others fall in love

With everyone but you, this must be hell

I'll write love poems to you ice, my beloved

So you don't feel alone while being cut up.

Till death, we do art.

I miss the sound of your voice

I crave it, so I can fill the void

That lies in the middle of my chest

Open for any temporary guests.

If you’re not noticed, you’re still valid.

@kriszkriszdreamland love you

To all the people who've already put up their outside Christmas decoration, I see you and I appreciate you so much

i have no words

- February 27, 1922

- The diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923

[ID: "February 27. Slept badly in the afternoon; everything is changed; my misery pressing me hard again." End ID]

“Im hangry” the hell is that.

"I can fix him" You can't even fix your sleep schedule bestie

"I would rather die of passion than of boredom."

Vincent Van Gogh