Beware those who seek constant crowds; they are nothing alone.– Charles Bukowski (via suzywire)
Short Story Number Five Hundred and Twenty Two
We had our old shoes and we put them on and we opened the front door. We walked out into the sunshine and looked at everything for a while. ‘This is cool,’ you said. ‘It’s like it’s the first day of summer or something. I feel like we haven’t been outside for decades.’ I looked at you and nodded and it felt like my eyes had been washed clean. And for some...
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes,...– Stephen King (via tantalising)
Short Story Number Five Hundred and Twenty One
You looked up at the sky and didn’t say anything for a really long time. You had been feeling bad again, you didn’t want to leave the house and go to work and smile at people. You wanted nothing, but to look up at the sky. So I looked up at the sky with you. I looked and hoped that one day we could just look up at the sky every day and not worry about a single thing. That everything...
Short Story Number Five Hundred and Twenty
I’m watching T.V. and thinking about you. I know you’re halfway through your summer trip and that you’re probably having the best time ever. You asked me to come with you, just before you left. But when you asked me I wasn’t interested. I was in one of those strange stupid moods. So now I look at my watch every five minutes. I look at my watch and know that I’m an...
Don’t give up. Keep going. There is always a chance that you stumble onto...– Ann Landers (via kari-shma)
What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly...– Sylvia Plath (via nonchalant-beatnik)
I often carry things to read so that I will not have to look at the people.– Charles Bukowski (via brainshit)
Short Story Number Five Hundred and Nineteen
I’m writing in a diary that I bought three years ago. I’m writing the same words again and again and again. I haven’t been out of my room for days and I’m pretty sure that I’ve been fired from my job. But I don’t care. I have to do this. I have to write. I have to fill this diary. I have to fill this diary and then somehow, in some weird way, you might actually...
Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.– George Bernard Shaw (via wordpainting)
I was like one of those nauseatingly nice children. I was very, very well...– Helena Bonham Carter (via giovannafalcone1)