One day you think: I want to die. And then you think, very quietly, actually I want a coffee. I want a nap. A sandwich. A book. And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friends, I want to sit in the sun. I want a cleaner room, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else, I want to live.
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“All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”
— André Breton, Mad Love
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It was April and she was the saddest thing under the sun.
Khush Bakht via wordedarchive
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