Nobody Fucking Talk To Me

november. i am home. i belong here, in november. my self coalesces with the fog, the grey skies, the cold air. and i am home.

*stomping out cigarette*

Only I can prevent forest fires

Maybe I do need to chill out

“We never believe we’re beautiful, no matter how many times we hear it. We never believe it until someone says it in the right way.”

— Francine Prose

What have I become

i'm so tired of having to survive and never being afforded the privilege of living. i'm tired of people feeling bad for me. i'm tired of taking up so much goddamn space. i'm tired of my body. i'm tired of the endless grief. i'm tired of the persistent emptiness. and i'm tired of being stuck in the past.

you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try you can’t outrun grief no matter how hard you try

also side note: fuck shia lebouf btw

just finished watching honey boy and what the fuck. all i did was cry for the last 30 minutes of that movie. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a movie that horrifically, yet beautifully relatable.

“I appreciate your concern. None of this is your fault. It’s me. It’s me and my head.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Violet Dickinson written c. January 1909

I NEED HIM SO BAD IDC!!!!!!

New Patrick Stump picture

This is my King