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OMG I AM LAUGHING SO HARD RIGHT NOW. What is my sense of humour even.

(via futurisms)

I’m not a happy person.
That’s what they think.
It tears me up inside,
I let it,
I like that tearing up, at least
it feels like something,
it’s worse, the rest of the time
when I don’t feel anything at all;
just numb, just sitting,
just staring at a screen, at empty words.
Whenever
I am somewhere
that allows my thoughts to wander,
they do just that, never quite as
obedient as I could hope.
And you are where your thoughts are
but my thoughts
are not where I want to be;
instead of opening possibility
they dwell on other, silly things
they dwell on nothing, forever nothing
they say “feel nothing”
they say- hours and hours and hours
of little amusements, of things to get you
to tomorrow; I don’t care about tomorrow, I want to live
today, and I want to live
three hundred years from now, but nobody
will remember me if I keep doing nothing-
I don’t want to be happy,
don’t need such mundane things as that
and still I pretend,
I tell myself it’s for
the benefit of those around me, but I know
that if I were locked up alone, I’d go about
my day in the same fasion
just without the other people there- I’d hide
that something from myself,
so then,
hopeless
I’d just shrivel up atop
blank, white floors to dissolve,
one with linoleum nothing.

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(via ohwarriorprincess)

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With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

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(via frankyfitz)

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(via ifollow-rivers)

I think that if Damon had to choose between Elena living and him going bye-bye, I think in a heartbeat he would take the latter. He really would.

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Not true my friend.

(via porcelainfeathers-deactivated20)