Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.
Lights out, my blind
and all-believing hands
discover the ghost
of a smile
on your invisible face;
here you are
in your skin,
shocking against mine.
— Nick Drake, “Static” (via petrichour)
You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we’re doing it.
— Neil Gaiman  (via attaches)
I’ve learned that just because
two people seem happy
does not always mean they are.
The stars appear as a
blanket of light from afar
but get in close and you’ll
see the spaces between them
are empty and vast.
Beau Taplin, "Empty and vast." (via afadthatlastsforever)

Andrew Lincoln, Norman Reedus & Scott Wilson on set of 4x16 "A"
Andrew Lincoln, Norman Reedus & Scott Wilson on set 
of 4x16 "A"
I don’t want to be the person who isn’t listening when someone talks; instead, thinking about your eyes, your hair, your lips, your voice. But I can’t help it. You can’t tell yourself not to think about someone — that’s just asking to think about them even more. It’s like riding a wave, I guess. I have to wait for this love to crest and fall and then I’ll finally be able to function knowing you’re so far away from me, with no end in sight.

http://www.youtube.com/attribution_link?a=Qt8ypf3Cz7c&u=/watch?v=XriNO100w6Q&feature=share →


Also this. Ignore the horrible camera movements and just focus on this unbelievable voice.

Victoriya sing this with me!

It is so hard to realise one day that you’re meaningless. That no one needs you, though there you are, wanting to give of yourself.
Persona (1966) dir. Ingmar Bergman (via c-ovet)

Thoughts like daggers
Wound me, but do not kill
And I bleed
Oh how I bleed
Using my blood for ink

Why is it again that I have to feel?


My dog York won’t do it for the vine by Wellington Boyce

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