Can You Die From Lack Of Affection? Asking For Myself

I am a different person to different people. Annoying to one. Talented to another. Quiet to a few. Unknown to a lot. But who am I, to me?

dream-jackson (via claudemonet-art)

“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly.”

— A Self-Portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton (via vilicity)

srphne​:

for someone that spent all her life alone, it was surprising how easily it was for aimée to grow closer to people now that she was in college. she only had a couple of friends during high school and, before that, her circle of people was even more limited. however, she found herself quickly feeling comfortable and happy with julian’s presence. few conversations and they were friends, and that’s all it was needed for aimée to never let him go. 

                                      no fucking way! you lived in a actually haunted house? that’s so ….          the girl stoped herself was soon as she noticed that she was being kind of rude.                             hm, sorry about your granfather. i’m not gonna lie, it does sounds cool to live in a haunted house, in theory. but it must be annoying and scary and specially harsh if it was someone you loved…  even if you don’t believe in any of this.    she quickly added, expecting him to protest her casual acceptance of the supernatural, like many people usually did. 

she was used to people going against her beliefs in ghosts and supernatural, but she didn’t care. specially since believing in the existence of ghosts meant that she could pretend that her parents were still with her.

          ❝I didn’t know him,❞ Jules says with a laugh. ❝This was years before I was born. I didn’t even really get stories about him, since he was my father’s father, and my father died when I was so young that I don’t remember him at all. So it’s really a nothing thing, emotionally.❞ 

Her excitement is fun, and he can’t help but grin at her. It’s clear she’s a believer, and he’s certainly not going to fault her for it, even if he doesn’t. The idea is fascinating, and he certainly understands the impulse to believe.

          ❝Closest I’ve ever gotten to knowing anything about him is my mother telling me how strong and respectable he was. How he should be a role model.❞ He snorts. ❝Yeah, no, I’m not gonna try to emulate the guy who pissed off his business partner so much that he literally got murdered.❞

( Not that he could ever live up to it anyway... )

He leans toward her slightly, still beaming, and he clasps his hands together.

          ❝One of my classmates liked to say they’d see him standing in the attic window, where he died. He’d swear up and down to his friends that he saw it.❞

That insistence was always particularly funny to Julian, since there’s a solid chance that he saw Julian, since he used his grandfather’s old study up there as a quiet place to write, where it was unlikely his mother would bother him. She found the whole thing creepy, since she knew the man who died there.

He did his homework there a lot too. It was those nights where he’d aaaaaalmost convinced himself he heard something. Saw something out of the corner of his eye. But that’s normal, on less than two hours sleep that he had sometimes back then.

( And now still, honestly )

          ❝It’s an old victorian mansion, built in the mid-1800s, so I super get why people were so ready to think it was haunted. It looks like it should be a haunted house- though one in very good condition.❞

Anaïs Nin, The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1920–1923

well if this ain’t me or what

He dresses like a hipster pretty much, but like, a rich one. Same style but everything costs more.

We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.

Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human (via wordsnquotes)

Lori Gottlieb, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed

folklore - taylor swift

a tale that becomes folklore is one that is passed down and whispered around. sometimes even sung about. the lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible. speculation, over time, becomes fact. myths, ghost stories, and fables. fairytales and parables. gossip and legend. someone's secrets written in the sky for all to behold.