And these people have someone to fuck and admire. All I have are the characters in my head. That keep me going. So I can keep writing. Even if it’s garbage. That’s all I have.


Ernest Hemingway in East Africa, circa 1947

s/o to my niggas with glasses that gotta hit the finger windshield wiper struggle when you get out of the rain

Plus I’m too ugly to manage any appreciative company. I feel like they’re more into what I say and do and not how I look and I hate that. I can only win people over with my words.

I need to be alone.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.
Ray Bradbury (via sad-plath)

(Source: sad-plath)


King of the trap