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Book parasite. Dancer. Film student. Future filmmaker. Old movies. Coffee. Hemingway. Hairless cats. One day I'm going to travel the world, I've got a thing for other cultures. The rest is shit.

Oh! And Samara, of course. Maybe some other people too, but probably not.



What is the meaning of life? That was all — a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (via helplesslyamazed)

He does not exist here, with me, but flesh that does not exist will never die, and promises unmade are never broken.

Aomame - Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via quote-book)

She lives the poetry she cannot write.

If you had a person in your life treating you the way you treat yourself, you would have gotten rid of them a long time ago.

Cheri Huber, There Is Nothing Wrong with You: Going Beyond Self-Hate  (via blua)

Closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything. Nothing’s going to disappear just because you can’t see what’s going on. In fact, things will even be worse the next time you open your eyes. That’s the kind of world we live in. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won’t make time stand still.

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via creatingaquietmind)

It’s really pathetic how much time I spend wishing that I could be someone else. All I really want is to be smart. I can learn to deal with never being skinny enough and never being pretty enough. I can handle that I’m always in the way or that I always annoy everyone around me, but I really can’t handle this being stupid as fucking shit thing. 

I really don’t want to do this anymore. I hate this and I hate being here. I’m fucking done. I want out.

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