(Source: turquoisedaydreams, via cold-seas)
(Source: cultqueen, via sadsappydouchebag)
Waiting for things to dry, I paint other things in between.
Watercolor, ink. Cold-pressed watercolor paper.
(via youswiminmywater)
I traded my soul for a rush, my fix,
now I hurt without, even with.
Always chasing
always hating ever
loving never enough
my subconscious effort not to succeed.
Where did my refuge go? You used to hold me,
now we embrace
and you turn your back
(via oldgray)
If I was a famous author I would publish a book with ten different endings which all went to print with varying degrees of rarity, but not tell the fans about it so that I could watch their confusion as they disagree over how the story ended. Then when they figured it out I would ‘come clean’, telling them that I had released eleven alternate endings and watch them panic again as they all try to find the last ending.
(via a-thousand-details)
(Source: 270293, via wedontwantyourheadlines)
