tired.
soapthief reblogged
Sometimes I come to hate people because they can’t see where I am. I’ve gone empty, completely empty and all they see is the visual form; my arms and legs, my face, my height and posture, the sounds that come from my throat.
David Wojnarowicz, from “Spiral,” Memories that Smell Like Gasoline (via lifeinpoetry)
soapthief reblogged
me at this point in the semester
i dont even sleep anymore i just die for a couple hours each day
person: you come across really chill
me: yeah i suppose i am
my constant, unending, internal monologue: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
soapthief reblogged
retrogamingblog
soapthief reblogged
I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything,
couldn’t do it anyway,
just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made
any sense, anything.
Richard Siken from “Straw House, Straw Dog” (via veinings)
soapthief reblogged
soapthief reblogged
“When you are depressed, the past and future are absorbed entirely by the present moment, as in the world of a three-year-old. You cannot remember a time when you felt better, at least not clearly; and you certainly cannot imagine a future time when you will feel better. … The most important thing to remember about depression is this: You do not get the time back. It is not tacked on at the end of your life to make up for the disaster years. Whatever time is eaten by a depression is gone forever.”
Source: texasobserver.org
