I am a collection of dismantled almosts.

Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters (via loveyourchaos)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

Children don’t read ‘genres’; they read stories. Below a certain age, they don’t distinguish between ‘true’ and ‘not true,’ because they see no reason that a white rabbit shouldn’t possess a pocket watch, that whales shouldn’t talk, or that sentient beings shouldn’t live on other planets and travel in spaceships. Science-fiction tropes aren’t read as ‘science fiction’; they’re read as fiction. And fiction is read as reality. And sometimes reality lives under the bed and has very large teeth, and it’s no use pretending otherwise.

Margaret Atwood, The New Yorker, June 4 & 11, 2012 (via electronicsquid)

Inwardly she was like nature, chaotic and irrational. She had no vision into this chaos: it ruled her and swamped her. It sucked her into miasmas, into hurricanes, into caverns of blind suffering.

Anaïs Nin, from Ladders To Fire (via c-ovet)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

gothiccharmschool:

Via fetishmode, photos from this year’s picnic at WGT. 

The traditional park picnic on the first day of the annual Wave-Gotik Treffen, or Wave and Goth Festival, on May 17, 2013 in Leipzig, Germany.

Reblog if you live here!

lunafaery:

faceofboe-:

goneelsewhere:

whitecastlecastiel:

futurecas:

heathyr:

oneandonlygabriel:

padabooty:

tapesorcds:

THE FUCK. i never thought this bunch of people are in here O_O

OH MY GOD PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIVE HERE LOL

WHAT
THE HELL
Is this thing?

Gotta love it

I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE.

OH FUCKKK

i’m creeped out. majorly.

Da fuck? Look at all the notes! O.O

Sup bitches. 

 NKY ftl

…The internets a big place. We all come from somewhere… *shrug*

(Source: sintactics)

Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world, it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

Jonathan Safran Foer (via ancora-imparo)

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All I Wish Is To Dream Again....

Paige / 23 / Norcal / Leo /

I'm one of those quiet dark people that doesn't exactly relate to others easily. I understand things better through music. I honestly don't know the path of my life at the moment, but I'm sure as hell trying to find my way.

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