“Every person I’ve ever loved has some how become toxic to me. A living, breathing reminder of why I was always better off alone. I love too hard, too quickly and then sometimes I don’t love enough. I guess I’m just bad at love.”
— Kristie Betts
E.E Scott, Every Day I Am Trying New Techniques To Make Myself Disappear
Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle — it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act if self-preservation. It's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?
— Ally Condie, First Day
"October" by Dion Anja, from Motion Sickness
Rainer Maria Rilke in a letter to Lou Andreas-Salomé, published in Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters
Anonymous asked:
How slutty would you say you are?
In theory? Very. In practice? Not at all. I’m lazy.
Anne Carson, from “The Glass Essay”, Glass, Irony, and God
I say I, too, am a romantic, and I mean I never expected to survive this long.
Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, from Carly Rae Jepsen – “E•MO•TION” (via weltenwellen)
