confidently-losttt
3K posts
; constantly evolving, steadily revolving ;
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oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
i'm getting old, and i need something to rely on
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you can go back to the past but nobody’s there
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I'm too exhausted to explain my soul to someone again.
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sick of wanting and yearning and longing and craving and and and and
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Edgar Allan Poe, from Tamerlane & Other Poems of E. A. P.; “The Sleeper,”
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Northern lights photographed from space
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I love morning silence I wish it was like this all day
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please don’t spend your life convincing yourself that love or joy is reserved for the idealized version of you that only exists in the future
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