"You said I was ill and you were not wrong..."

swan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan diveswan dive
(Source: thegoldenhawk)
Who the fuck cares anymore?
I have this feeling, this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I’m about to do something I can never undo and the closer I get to the edge, the more eager I am to jump. Endless hours spent in solitude have convinced me of something I always knew deep down.
Nobody ever said it better than Robert:
“And the further I get from the things that I care about, the less I care about how much further away I get”
116 days on Prozac
"In the end,it wasn’t death that surprised her but the stubbornness of life."
—
-Jeffrey Eugenides (The Virgin Suicides)








