Pitch-black winter nights live in my bones.
My roommate’s not suicidal
But it sounds sexier than saying
that she closes her eyes sometimes
when she’s changing lanes.
—Chad Anderson (via writingsforwinter)
“All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”
I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.
—Franz Kafka; from a diary entry dated 23 March 1914. (via violentwavesofemotion)
“No amount of love can cure madness or unblacken one’s dark moods. Love can help, it can make the pain more tolerable, but, always, one is beholden to medication that may or may not always work and may or may not be bearable.”
(Kay Redfield Jamison, “An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness”)
“I fall in love with ideas and fantasies rather than whole beings and then I sit here and wonder why I’m still alone. It’s because I don’t fucking pay attention. I’m too busy thinking about tomorrow that today falls through the cracks.”
(Ryan O’Connell, “I’m Trying to Love You More”)