"it’s about who you miss at 2 in the afternoon when you’re busy, not 2 in the morning when you’re lonely."
"Before you say yes, get him angry. See him scared, see him wanting, see him sick. Stress changes a person. Find out if he drinks and if he does, get him drunk - you’ll learn more about his sober thoughts. Discover his addictions. See if he puts you in front of them. You can’t change people, baby girl. If they are made one way, it doesn’t just wear off. If you hate how he acts when he’s out of it now, you’re going to hate it much worse eight years down the road. You might love him to bits but it doesn’t change that some people just don’t fit."
inkskinned, “My father’s recipe for the man I should marry” (via partygirlmeltdown)
musiccantouchyou:

Wilhelm Gause, Ball der Stadt Wien (1904)
I’ll try anything once, The Strokes (2006)

insp (x)

musiccantouchyou:

Wilhelm Gause, Ball der Stadt Wien (1904)
I’ll try anything once, The Strokes (2006)
insp (x)

"I like cancelled plans. And empty bookstores. I like rainy days and thunderstorms. And quiet coffee shops. I like messy beds and over-worn pajamas. Most of all, I like the small joys that a simple life brings."
note to self (via bl-ossomed)
"

The year both my friends went abroad I moved into my first apartment and it was my last year of college. I had long since stopped having high or hopeful expectations. It took me 15 minutes to walk to class, 13 if I knew I was going to be late. But I always left 20 minutes before. Old habits. I passed the time by bringing a book with me. By the end of the second week, I no longer felt self-conscious.

I spent a lot of time in my own head. Sometimes too much. By the end of the first month, I knew my thoughts would be the death of me, so I started volunteering at a non-profit literary magazine. It was four metro stops away, or about eleven minutes. Naturally I brought a book. I tried to kill the idea—the hope—that someone, somewhere would see me and ask what I was reading. I tried to not care.

At the office, I tried to be nice to people and act interested. I tried to be, in my mother’s words, “personable.” I tried to ask them questions. That’s important. I always walked out of the office alone, but at least I asked them questions.

It wasn’t long before I started doing homework at Barnes & Noble instead of my apartment. I hoped this would kill some of my loneliness. Some days it was enough. Others it only seemed to intensify the echo chamber in my head. On Tuesdays, I bought coffee from the girl who worked there. I didn’t even drink coffee, but I bought it anyway. The $3 and change were worth every penny, and those few minutes were the best of my day.

I never talked to her though. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be bothered.

I tried to do something twice a month in the city that wasn’t school or work-related. Usually I’d see movies and try to forget the fact I was alone. When the lights dimmed, it was the first time that week I didn’t have to hold my breath.

The one thing I mastered was the art of distraction. I went to an exhibition on Degas, saw a Shakespeare play put on by a school club, read books, and watched a lot of Netflix. I figured the more I filled my time, the less time I’d have to think.

That was the year I stopped texting people who never texted back and the number of recent messages on my phone fell back to being counted on one hand. I forced myself to raise my hand once per class. I didn’t always succeed, but I made up for it by sitting in front and nodding my head when the professor looked at me. More nights at Barnes & Noble. More poetry. I tried not to feel so inadequate, like an apology. But I didn’t even know who I’d be apologizing to.

I told myself this would be the year I stopped caring about what others thought of me. I stopped caring that I ate alone or did things alone. I found this immensely liberating. I stopped thinking anyone would, or could, or should fill whatever hole was inside me. I stopped waiting for a first kiss or hand-holding and learned to hold my own damn hand. People spend their whole lives looking for fingers that fit in the spaces between their own. I found mine on my left hand.

But my progress fell apart daily. Every time I saw a couple admiring Van Gogh or browsing the fiction section of a bookstore I would return to the gnawing loneliness inside me. And I started wanting someone to hold my hand again. And I started texting people even though they never texted back.

"
nevver:

“He is always on the brink of suicide … because he seeks salvation through the routine formulas suggested to him by the society in which he lives.” — Umberto Eco on Charlie Brown

nevver:

“He is always on the brink of suicide … because he seeks salvation through the routine formulas suggested to him by the society in which he lives.” — Umberto Eco on Charlie Brown

"We make each other alive; it doesn’t make a difference if it hurts."
Ingmar Bergman, from a letter to Liv Ullmann, cited in "Liv & Ingmar" (2012)
"Who were you before they broke your heart"
I don’t remember  (via lovequotesrus)