3 Notes
im-just-a-little-unwell: Red - Confession.

im-just-a-little-unwell:

Red - Confession.

6520 Notes

(via temporaryloss)

244 Notes
debilitating: (by HayleyWarnham)

debilitating:

(by HayleyWarnham)

(via donebetterandagain)

84559 Notes
the-heartofalion: this.

the-heartofalion:

this.

(Source: extrawhippedcream, via ashitdfuckghjkl)

36763 Notes

(via temporaryloss)

10471 Notes

(Source: eatsleepdraw, via temporaryloss)

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(Source: 0cean-depths, via temporaryloss)

77045 Notes

(via evrythinghapensforareson)

32628 Notes

(via ilveroamorre)

35300 Notes

(Source: youjustyou, via ilveroamorre)

23 Notes
vampire-lovesong: Vampire-Lovesong: Follow for more gothic photos

vampire-lovesong:

Vampire-Lovesong:

Follow for more gothic photos

(via lefoxdenoir)

15963 Notes

(via rissuhello)

2 Notes

I’m surprised that you thought that I could open myself up so wholly to someone. I don’t know whether to thank you or question how well you know me or how well you tried to get to know me.
Opening up? Me? I can barely mumble words to my parents or my best friends. I only hear the mumblings of my own thoughts or the shrieking of them as they run their fingers down chalkboards while I reach out. Terror. Sirens. I can feel it. I quiver in their power, in their manipulation of me.
They understand how to pull my strings. They understand how to keep these ropes tethered.
I’m surprised that you thought I was so agile, so nimble, so relaxed.
Thank you for believing in the facade that everyone is looking through. I can’t stand their examination, but your kind eyes treat me well. They don’t pierce and the fingers only lightly trace the outside of the chalkboard as they always do in the presence of others.

18901 Notes

(via the-greatest-hypocrite-of-all)

I think I have developed a new hatred for embroidery. My fingers are unfeeling and my once beautiful handkerchief is now stained with sloppy stitching and a miniature crime scene of blood.

I left the needle and handkerchief on the windowsill. I thought that maybe it would help keep my mind busy while I sat in the sunlight and my Internet had been disconnected, but even if it had been working, my computer was thrown from my third story window in our last fight.

Some times I watch you walk the garden, dirtying your knees and hands in the soil and plot how I could toss something from this window direct enough to crush your head.

Too bad you took most of the heavy belongings from my room that could actually fit through that window.

I touched the cool glass, the relief spreading from my fingers as artistic strokes of my blood, drawing an ‘x’ over where you were standing at the moment. I walked out of my room, grabbing the stolen key tapped underneath the jewelry box you had given me.

I fled to your room (we had long ago stopped sharing a bed and a room) and wrote on your mirror, hoping that you would see it when you entered. I hoped I was worth it. I hoped that garden was worth it.

I obviously wasn’t good enough for you. I had to stay in that room to improve myself. I don’t know if this is an improvement from before, but my emotions are neutralized.

If that’s what you you wanted, you have succeeded.

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