hi-mi-zu: さよならにっぽん Otomo Katsuhiro
(via ohcairo)
I’m alone
in a body that can’t
love me.
— Margaret Gibson, from “The Waiting” (via agapintheskin)
(Source: awritersruminations, via agapintheskin)
If I could open up a vein and bleed out to show you I am human, I would. So full of anger and dread, your heart beats so quickly. How can I prove that I am nothing more than flesh and blood? You are too willing to forget that I’m living a life. If all you see if bad, how can you expect your life to get better?
There are people who would have you believe I am an awful person, which may be true.
There are people who would have you believe I am a great person, which may also be true.
There aren’t many people who would have you believe I am a multitude of people, both awful and great, which is the closest to true I can offer you.
(Source: michlomop-hocha, via ohcairo)
Of my two best childhood friends, one is now a bodybuilder who works on cars and the other is a frat boy who apparently fell in love with Ronald Reagen.
Life is fucking weird.
(Source: makemestfu, via feminishblog)