فصل
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Yes, I was infatuated with you; I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those. — Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath 

(Source: durianquotes, via miserywalk)
Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person’s heart and dissolve it. — Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

(Source: larmoyante, via gebeine)
I suppose it’s a comfort, perhaps a sense of self-control, doing worse damage to yourself than the world will ever dare inflict. —  Chuck Palahniuk

(Source: leslieseuffert, via aoimei)
There are 7 billion people on this planet who I have not met,
and 195 countries I have not visited.
Yet I am stuck in this insignificant town,
Being pressured into making decisions about my future,
When I barely even know who I am. — Unknown 

(Source: lluxuria, via miserywalk)
He in his madness prays for storms, and dreams that storms will bring him peace. — Leo Tolstoy - The Death of Ivan Ilych

(Source: thosewings, via aoimei)
There is an ache in my heart for the imagined beauty of a life I haven’t had, from which I had been locked out, and it never goes away. — Robert Goolrick

(Source: seabois, via miserywalk)
There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts. — Albert Camus

(Source: clairvoyant---disease, via gebeine)
I never really liked my name much, until I found out what it tastes like when you sigh it into my mouth — scream that he destroys all kindness in you;

(via eviglycka)
And if all that is meaningless, I want to be cured of a craving for something I cannot find and of the shame of never finding it. — T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party

(Source: stxxz.us, via i084)
I just think life is meaningless altogether, most of the time. Yes, there is beauty in the moment, but beyond that? People come and go and you can never count on anyone, and life is just life; a mystery, and ultimately meaningless. The meaning is in the creation, and the creation is a human construct; and people just make up stuff in order to get through life. — René Vernor, from Anything Is Possible

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via miserywalk)