(Source: walkonair90, via pokingsmot)
(Source: walkonair90, via pokingsmot)
(Source: wildgift, via shroomssavedmymind)
"I was anti-everything and everyone. I didn’t want people around me. This aversion was not some big crippling anxiety; merely a mature recognition of my own psychological vulnerability and my lack of suitability as a companion. Thoughts jostled for space in my crowded brain as I struggled to give them some order which might serve to motivate my listless life."
- Irvine Welsh, The Acid House (via vashti)
(Source: paigeycakes, via vashti)
Evelyn McHale is probably the most famous Empire State Building suicide victim. On May 1, 1947 Evelyn leaped from the 86th-floor observatory in 1947 and landed on the roof of a United Nations limousine parked on the street below.
Her suicide note read:
“I don’t want anyone in or out of my family to see any part of me. Could you destroy my body by cremation? I beg of you and my family – don’t have any service for me or remembrance for me. My fiance asked me to marry him in June. I don’t think I would make a good wife for anybody. He is much better off without me. Tell my father, I have too many of my mother’s tendencies.”
(via geographyoftheheavens)
(Source: brazilwonders, via sem-par)
(Source: lastsundaynight, via beautifully-brutal)
This is how the rain looks like when you’re up there.
Marilyn photographed by Harold Lloyd
"You have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you realised the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and stupid."
- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via the-punk-poet)
(Source: thetidepool, via geographyoftheheavens)
"Lately I have been so overwhelmed with sadness it is so difficult to find any form of clairty, never-mind clarity in my writing. Have you ever written a suicide note? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have one ready to go. The pen is my blood seeping into your skin beggin for a way out, dripping with sorrow and gratitude. I forget how to love, I forget where my passion wondered off to. I forget you like I forget yesterday or tomorrow. But I remember how it felt, the pain more clear than anything else. I remember the first sip, and how sweet it really did taste; bursting with sugar and hints of mystical illusions. I remember her name and how the thought of her being made my heart race.The look on your face after that long car ride still haunts me at night, along with your shaking hands. When the sun shines, do you stop to appreciate it’s very warmth? Or do you disregard the warmth completely and only focus on the brilliant light? Im living in a stand-still with a heavy burden of sadness resting on top of my hour-glass, praying for an ounce of hope to peak through. When did I get so lost? Are we ever even lost? Or are we always truly lost, what do you call home? Is it a place of superficial love, or is it another burden adding to your ongoing weaknesses"
- The Baby does not cry, the Baby is dead
