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I pretty much try to stay in a constant state of confusion just because of the expression it leaves on my face.
theme

tr4gic—essence:

When he told me there was nothing to lose and everything to gain, I instantly felt a little better. It was like something inside me clicked and I felt…. warm. Mind you, the feeling didn’t last long.

(Source: ro-sycheeks)

tumblrbot: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

I love lamp

Eleanora by Edgar Allan Poe

mindfulinconveniences:

 

I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion. Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence — whether much that is glorious- whether all that is profound — does not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast ocean of the “light ineffable,” and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, “agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.”

"Perhaps it’s impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be." — Ender’s Game, Orson Scott Card (via starswithplanets)
We all want to be someone else…

 

the problem with words

is their inability to express
everything,
emotions and feelings
never conveyed adequately
with a ink on paper
or lines on a screen

to even try and explain
what my heart is saying
then i’m in trouble

the cause doesn’t matter
be it from fear, from anger
from pride, from shame.
it’s all the same
a total inability
to show who i really am

"They have hung the sky with arrows,
Targes of jubilant flame, and helms of splendor,
Knives and daggers of hissing light, and furious swords.

They have hung the lake with moth-wings,
Blurs of purple, and shaggy warmths of gold,
Lazy curious wines, and curving curds of silver.

They have hung my heart with a sunset,
Lilting flowers, and feathered cageless flames,
Death and love: ashes of roses, ashes of angels." — e.e. cummings (via
truthspe-king)