There are going to be some night when you don’t feel like going to the party. So don’t go to the party. Let everyone else have their existential discussions about free will and the decay of the universe over cocktails. Stay home and read through your book collection instead; you’ll have more fun…
Writings for Winter: how to skip the party and stay home instead
(via prepaganda)
”
She went back to her room and put on her best dress, high heels, tried to fix up. But there was a terrible sadness about her.
Post Office (Charles Bukowski)
(Source: wordsthat-speak, via wordsthat-speak)
Writings for Winter: homewrecker
Tonight I try to forget you by going through all our past
hookups in slow motion over and over again,
until they’re playing on repeat in my head. I tie ropes
for the people I love and let them hang like nooses:
nobody just falls in love with me. They break their necks
trying to do so….
Anna Pavlova in The Dying Swan, Mariinsky Theatre, 1907
(Source: dodsrike, via the-happy-elephant)
”
That’s life for you. Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while, you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can’t hurt you no more.
The Fog Horn (Ray Bradbury)
(Source: wordsthat-speak, via wordsthat-speak)
(Source: todayifoundanoldfriend, via blackoutballerina)
”
Make love like you have no secrets, like you’ve never been left, never been hurt, like the world don’t owe you a single wretched thing.
Warsan Shire (via thegloriouspursuit)
(Source: chandelierswinging)
”
I don’t understand how I can know so little about love and how it works. How I can be so bad at it when it’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever known is about leaving or being left.
Carrie Ryan, The Dark and Hollow Places (via chandelierswinging)
(Source: airows, via lifeofhunt)
