She loved the guy. She did it for him. She would’ve done anything for him. Some people are like that. Some loves are like that. Most loves are like that, from what I can see. Your heart starts to feel like an overcrowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and your independence. After a while you start throwing people out—your friends, everyone you used to know. And it’s still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it’s going to take you down with it. I’ve seen that happen to a lot of people here. I think that’s why I’m sick of love.
— Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram (via hqlines)
There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion.
— Edgar Allan Poe (via feellng)
I care about you so much. I hope one day you’ll find happiness because you deserve it.
— (via kimpoyfeliciano)
I don’t want what we had with anyone else. I want you, I only want you, and it will always be you. We had something wonderful, but that something wonderful evolved into something undesirable, something toxic. But I’d still choose our toxicity over anything else. I don’t care if it harms me, I don’t care if it kills me, and I don’t care if that makes me stupid. Maybe I am stupid, maybe that’s why I’m still hung up on you.
— thoughts 8/2/14 (via depresant)