To live every day as if it has been stolen from death, that is how I would like to live. To feel the joy of life… To separate oneself from the burden, the angst, the anguish that we all encounter every day. To say I am alive, I am wonderful, I am. I am. That is something to aspire to.
Garth SteinThe Art of Racing in the Rain
(via bookmania)

I’m learning to wear my loneliness
More comfortably.
It can be a tight fit at times,
Making it harder to breathe at night
When my presence comes crashing down
On my chest
And the world suddenly seems too big
To keep me company.

I wear my loneliness
On tea breaks,
Or when gazing
Through my bedroom window,
Wishing I could smoke a few
Or drink a little
So I’m not just left with myself
And the thoughts I bring.

I’ve tried taking it off, once or twice.
I’ve tried ripping apart the fabric
And letting people in
And letting love replace it
But I guess loneliness is like
That one blue velvet dress
That I can’t throw away.

Loneliness is a pure gift
On days
Where company
Causes my brain to go haywire
And I’m scared
They’ll hate me,
They find me annoying,
They’ll forget about me.

Loneliness is a pure gift.
It’s a gift I never requested.

Loneliness // W.J (via cascadingletters)
She must find a boat and sail in it. No guarantee of shore. Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist, if she dared to find it.
Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are not the only fruit (via skycladcoyote)

(Source: observando)

(Source: brittatheoryarchive)

I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.
Alice Walker (via writingbox)
People are like cities: We all have alleys and gardens and secret rooftops and places where daisies sprout between the sidewalk cracks, but most of the time all we let each other see is is a postcard glimpse of a skyline or a polished square. Love lets you find those hidden places in another person, even the ones they didn’t know were there, even the ones they wouldn’t have thought to call beautiful themselves.
Hilary J. Smith, Wild Awake (via quoted-books)



Photographer Translates His Nightmares Into Surreal, Haunting Photographs

by 19-year-old photographer Nicolas Bruno

I am in LOVE with these.