Despite what you’ve read, your sadness is not beautiful. No one will see you in the bookstore, curled up with your Bukowski, and want to save you.
Stop waiting
for a salvation that will not come from the grey-eyed boy looking for an annotated copy of Shakespeare,
for an end to your sadness in Keats.
He coughed up his lungs at 25, and flowery words cannot conceal a life barely lived.
Your life is fragile, just beginning, teetering on the violent edge of the world.
Your sadness will bury you alive, and you are the only one who can shovel your way out with hardened hands and ragged fingernails, bleeding your despair into the unforgiving earth.
Darling, you see, no heroes are coming for you. Grab your sword, and don your own armor.

— (via starredsoul)

(via merryprankster)

youbroketheinternet:

Sarah
berlue:

original
infinite-paradox:

gardensprout:

I would do bad things for a bonfire with friends right about now

Mmmm no doubt!
Perhaps this is what it means to go mad: to be emptied and to be aware of the emptiness.

— David Foster Wallace 
(via tat-art)

(via tat-art)

tat-art:

kate photographed by corinne day
I am in the mood to dissolve into the sky.

— Virginia Woolf (via spectare)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via livingmoon)

chocolateguru:

Chocolate Nutella Pots With Boozy Cream
To open deeply, as genuine spiritual life requires, we need tremendous courage and strength … a kind of warrior spirit. And the place for this warrior strength is in the heart.

— Jack Kornfield (via slychedelic)

(via womanafterherownheart)

browndresswithwhitedots:

Sharyn Cairns