I take great care of myself by carefully shutting myself away. Vincent Van Gogh, a letter to his brother, Theo.  (via christywilde)

(Source: stxxz.us, via thoughtsofaddiction)

41,283 notes
I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t permanent. My life was a fiction I had created, like an alien who comes to earth and tries to pass as human. The affections of my friends meant nothing to me, directed, as they were, toward a person who wasn’t there. There was nobody home. Robert Goolrick, The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life (via splitterherzen)

(via thoughtsofaddiction)

2,019 notes


me like ‘haha yeah i can DEFINITELY write a five page paper in two hours!! time is a construct, deadlines have no meaning and also i’m dead inside’

(via thoughtsofaddiction)

77,932 notes
It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else. I would have done anything to feel real again. Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (via writurs)

(via thoughtsofaddiction)

1,241 notes
You know so much about me and yet you don’t understand me. To know is not to understand. We could know everything and still not understand anything. Antonio Porchia  (via 090108)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via thoughtsofaddiction)

6,375 notes