archive this is a mess

I fire self loathing from my eyes, bouncing back from every snide person and reflective surface, returning to it’s origin. It multiplies, grows each time, spiralling me deeper and deeper into hell.

we have now been accounted for
and it is written on our empty graves
that After everything still I stayed.
And I mean it.
I stayed. I stayed. I stayed.
― Buddy Wakefield, “Self-Portrait”   (via malglories)
I have so much of you in my heart.
― John Keats, from a letter to Fanny Brawne  (via dieworten)
I am a work in progress.
― Violet Yates, Lost & Found (via observando)
…how I
still, sometimes,
crave understanding.
Mary Oliver, from Long Life: Essays And Other Writings (via violentwavesofemotion)
You made me believe I was nothing.
Margaret Atwood, from Cat’s Eye (via violentwavesofemotion)