Mock The Futile Faux

I have to keep to myself for a while I think, I’m not gonna be okay for a while and I accept it I guess. I know for a fact that I won’t love human being even close to the way I loved you. I’m sorry I still think about you.

therealgingerjedi:

aaaand… hermit-mode activated.

very accurate

fuck this life. i want a new one, and i will get it

there’s a map under my bed, in my schedule ill fit

deafheaven:

Dream House 

Hindered by sober restlessness. Submitting to the amber crutch. The theme in my aching prose. Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan; that pour of a bitter red being that escapes a thin frame. The rebirth of mutual love. The slipping on gloves to lay tenderly.

  “I’m dying.”
- “Is it blissful?”   
“It’s like a dream.” 
- “I want to dream.”

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