Closed heart, open mind.
I'll be here and there.


I came here to drink indiscreetly and listen to you talk in spanish


come back to me as soon as you can

(via scumila)

whosvalentina: | Seattle Trip
Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the “good life”, whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.
— Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway

(Source: itsthewinterwind, via howitzerliterarysociety)

Wow, yes, Kristen

I stopped being angry at everything. Selfishly directing all explosives to my chest. I hear them go off one by one. Morning after morning. I think on the 5th day I heard silence and felt numb. The damage already done doing it’s harm. The explosives no longer going off and surrendering cheerfully to the hollowness they caused deep within my chest. But I’m no longer angry. It started off as this agonizing numbness to this pitiful pang of sadness that took root and made itself clear to me as just an ache that won’t walk away. This ache that grows more and more, the roots making a vice grip around my heart. But no one’s asked if I’m breathing okay.

It hurts. | Seattle Trip

I hurt absolutely everywhere.

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