She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into...– Nicole Krauss, Great House (via 36974)
Don’t cut your wrists, and don’t cut your thighs. Put down the lighter. Pull...– (via barbies-not-even-perfect)
the-fiercest-fables: I don’t want to grow to be a woman like my mother: clenches fist first I come home happy and she looks at me like I sucked it out of her; vacuum daughter with the eyes that don’t shine; Why aren’t you happy anymore? And I say I am happy; god I’m happy all the fucking time you’re just not around to see it, or it dies with your opening sentence.