Flèche

A Lullaby, All young men in the black veil. The image I slept beneath Woke me in its pale Now women's corpses weave Into the quiet tale.

- I’m holding on just as hard to living as I am to dying. So Hail to Sartre's hell!

Been fantasizing hard about payback lately. Fucking slimy mullah bastards one by one, ripping y'all apart piece by piece, setting asses ablaze, torturing till you're screaming for mercy that ain't coming. Not even enough!

می‌خوام یه سری عکس و ویدئوی بی‌ربط از دسامبر بذارم و دوباره ناپدید شم. توضیح خاصی هم درموردش ندارم جز چند تا کلمه: شراب، خایه‌مالی ونگوگ، لاک متالیک، روزی که ثریا خونه نیست، ایلیا، مالیخولیا و مسخره‌ترین تیشرت دزدی کمدم.

God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering. - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals.

نمی‌دونم تصویر یه آدم بدبخت و پریشون رو کجا فوروارد می‌کنید اما راسش یکم خوشحالم می‌کنه. (حتی اگه مسخره‌م کنید)

صرفا دارم تلاش می‌کنم که باشم.

She glared at me like she was about to punch me, but then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me. " Be careful seaweed brain." She said putting on her invisible cap and disappearing. I probably would have sat there all day, trying to remember my name, but then the sea demons came. Rick Riordan _