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On Being Ill, Virginia Woolf

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trapped in and endless cycle of death and rebirth

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brown eyes are warm and beautiful and deserve more recognition

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I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.

— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

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reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

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Sucks that “sleeping together” refers to sex. Sometimes a fella just wants to snooze with a pal.

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I don’t even care about the pain i just want to be better and have healthy relationships with people