itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
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— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
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— Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
despite everything …. I’m grateful I got a chance to be alive… to experience love and good food and sunsets. isn’t that the point of it all really
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
"I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself."
– Franz Kafka
Going back through my old posts is a literal nightmare. What was I reading/watching? Who was I talking about? Why didn't I leave myself any context clues?
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
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“Perhaps they were right putting love into books.Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.”
-William Faulkner
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
shoutout to guys that wear masc outfits with pretty dangly jewelry i want to kiss you with tongue
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
"I am fond of lovers but I cannot love, I am too far away, am banished,"
—Franz Kafka, from a diary entry wr. c. January 1917 featured in "Diaries"
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
“I get to know myself again with you. At first, I couldn’t accept I was falling in love with the impossible. However, now, every time I see you, I experience feelings impossible to describe. I love a country I didn’t know at all, I speak a language I didn’t know. The more I learn about the country, the better I understand you. I know the source of your passion, and that passion is what I love about you. I liken the white of your skin to the white part of my flag, the blue of your eyes to the blue part. I, on the other hand, like the star on your flag, believe in the infinity, ascribe to the life you don’t hesitate to sacrifice to the red color of your flag, and I lose myself in that color. Then you turn into the flags of every country, into all the nations. When I think of you, the borders, the color of the people, their flags disappear. When I think of you, I disappear. I’m in the middle of a very deep sleep. If I wake up, when I open my eyes, I want to see your eyes that make every impossibility disappear. Any other way, if I have to wake up from a sleep that won’t end with seeing your eyes, I wish to sleep forever.”
— Leon
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
“Teach me how to love you Because I don’t know how to do it. Moments like this I stay alone with something impossible to describe. For that reason I want to build a new world and I want just you next to me in that world. Teach me how to love you. Let’s define everything anew. Let’s invent a new language for ourselves and let’s confess our love to each other in that language that no one else knows. Teach me how to love you. And I will teach you about bravery… How countries and borders will collapse for the sake of our love. And now I’m saying the most painful thing of all; I write letters you’ll never read and day by day I lose my own essence on these lines. I don’t know also what will be left of me. You, me, love, separation, death, life? I beg you, teach me how to love you. I beg you Hilal, promise me a country where we will live and die together.”
— Leon
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
Your heart sits in an attic with cold feet, pondering over the warm feelings it isn't capable of having
I miss catching lightening bugs every summer. I hate it here
Why is it that everytime i read or watch something I inevitably fall in love with the character that's bound to die? Like they always draw me in and then boom dead. It's unfair and it hurts and I hate crying. Please stop doing this to me. It's even worse when I am reading a memoir and he was only in it for 3 pages
I should have just taken a year off like my mother told me to, I have literally never been so miserable in my life. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it manages to get so much worse. Rock bottom is an endless pit of despair.
I hate feeling homesick but I hate the feeling of not belonging even more
itsyaboiskinnyghoul reblogged
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
[text ID: The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.]
You ever read something and it just rips your heart out, stomps on it, chews it up, a uses it as a spit ball, and then gently places back in your chest? Cause let me tell you...