Hunter S. Thompson // Sylvia Plath // N.M. Sanchez

idk it just feels so good when you realize a fandom friend has become ur friend friend—y’know? like instead of only talking about ur common interest u start branching out and talking to each other about your lives, your other hobbies, and it’s even cooler to remain close if one or both of you lose interest in the fandom you met in. your bond, no longer dependent on the mutual love you had for some thing—now lies upon the kinship you’ve built. i think that’s beautiful

"I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be."

—Charles Dickens, Great Expectations.

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. you won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. but one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

—

haruki murakami, kafka on the shore

it makes you stronger than ever

(via astound)

I’ve been interested in the costumes from Crimson Peak for a while, so I made a video! Check it out if you’re interested! :)

How hollow is your heart? Without your anguish, anger and melancholy.

the reason i like staying up late so much is because between the hours of 1am-5am, the world is quiet and no one expects anything from me. i could stare at my wall for 4 hours and there would be no consequences. it’s so silent and calm. i love it

What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

but you killed everyone else around you too. 

To the night sky that distract me and keep me going through the darkest of nights:

In the dark of the night

with only the untethered moon and I awake

I look up at her in all her glory and wonder what she thinks of me

Does she think I am valiant or a coward to run away from myself?

She is all I can think about at night

I want to drink moonlight and feel her liquid electric love

I watch the moon grow piece by piece night after night

It goes through seven phases to be called full, whole

It makes me think I grow piece by piece as well

Unveiling myself with every passing night under Andromeda

I have to go through seven phases of life before becoming whole as well

Thinking is overrated

Why would you think about things and make yourself mournful?

I feel like a fugitive to my thoughts when I think because my thoughts are far too wide for my tiny empty head

Kiss my forehead and break me free from this rock like the Chained lady

The moonlight kisses my face

Her beauty intoxicates me and I'm bewitched

See the stars surrounding the moon making the sky twinkle?

They are the precious little things in life, your lights

I ask the moon how much longer I can hold on without crumbling

I think the number of stars in the sky is the answer

Count the starts with me while I trace constellations on your arm

So what do I do when the moon falls and the stars dissolve into nothing?

Do I live by the clouds and sunlight outlining them

Making the sky look like heaven in hiding

Or do I slip away with the moon as it disappears meeting the horizon at its end?

The night falls but she waits a little longer

I wonder if that's her way of reassuring me that she'll always be there behind the silver clouds watching

I open my heart everytime I see the moon shine in all her glory

My heart has been torn out and put back together just to get torn again

Yet I stand looking at the star laced sky waiting for it to be fixed or torn again

tear stitch tear stitch tear

It's put together when she's looking over me and gets torn when she's gone again but I will wait right there for her to come back

Forever and always, hers

“My mind is obscured by the past, as if there is too much to remember. Muted sadness and nostalgia are overwhelming, but it’s always sad because it’s the past. I don’t feel ready to build new memories. I keep going back, like a holiday. There are so many parts and details.”

— Flora Yin-Wong | Liturgy (via abandonarium)