welcome to the awful mess of my brain.

nevver:

The edge of summer, Andrea Colombo

mpdrolet:

Brooke Anne Frederick

mpdrolet:

Brooke Anne Frederick

nzafro:

Goldfish on a motorcycle, Vietnam.

nzafro:

Goldfish on a motorcycle, Vietnam.

nevver:

Less cool

nevver:

Less cool

antropomorfisme:

q’d

antropomorfisme:

q’d

Reblog if you actually give a shit about anyone who’s suicidal or depressed.

no one should scroll past this

According to you, I am still on this long journey to find out who I am and still haven’t figured it out. You say I’m this enigma, that nobody will ever understand me; I’m a mystery to myself and even you, who has known me so intimately for four years, don’t quite get me. I mean, I’ve changed a little, I’ve changed a lot, but the basic components of whoever-I-am are the same. You tell me not to worry like it’s the first time we sat down on those decaying brown sofas and met each other. Like nothing has changed from then to this very moment, like you’ve always known me and yet how can you say you’ll never know me? 

And if you will never know who I am, what hope is there for the rest of the world? Do you see how wonderfully complicated this is…

I am at a loss for who I will be and who I am being. 

The entire world bends under the weight of my unknown. I touch, and Earth crumbles. I spin like a hurricane, and the masses lay below beneath my wake.

I destroy.

But I want to restore.