hereunoia:

If the boy who draws

let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet

smiles

and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,

hums a song

in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air

and dust

that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,

and all things cease to exist,

you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,

a song.

— Alaska Gold

(via holymotheroflaughter)

— Looking for Alaska, John Green (via sausainis966)

(Source: survivinginsanity, via landanddisease)

fffcuk:

what doesn’t kill you fucks you up mentally and affects your ability to have stable relationships with other human beings

(via interfectordeorum)

I can’t do this