There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.
Albert Camus (via justy461)



And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.
— Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via anamorphosis-and-isolate)

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.





The choice is not mine to make. You know I’ll always choose you.
— Roses For Rei (via rosesforrei)


Then she said: ‘Sorry, I lied.’


Your name still breaks my heart.
— (via unabashinglyme)

michygeary:


I WANT EVERYONE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS REALEST SHIT

michygeary:

I WANT EVERYONE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS REALEST SHIT