written by W.B. Yeats from an essay (via fleurstains)
There’s nothing like doing cocaine with your boyfriend to really ride out your rough patch. I’m in love and I want to scream and vomit and kiss him again and again and again and again.
written by One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
do you ever just sit around and think I’m in my twenties.
In my days of disgusting
tear-slathered neck nuzzling and
ad-libbing “sorries” into countless
weeping monologues, I have learned such:
That looking to anyone but yourself
for fulfillment will turn your vast
wondrous galaxies into gaps.
And you’ll feel empty enough
to let someone else…