You know what’s sad about reading books? It’s that you fall in love with the characters. They grow on you. And as you read, you start to feel what they feel - all of them - you become them. And when you’re done, you’re never the same. Sure you’re still you, you look the same, talk in the same manner, but something in you has changed. Something in the way you think, the way you choose, sometimes, even the things you say may differ. But it all comes down to the state you go to after a nice novel. The after-feeling. It’s amazing, but somehow, you feel left alone by that world you were once in. It’s overwhelming. But it makes you sad. Cause for once you were this, this otherworldly being in… Neverwhere, and then you suddenly have to say goodbye after a few weeks from when you read the last page. When you’ve recovered from that state. It’s just… quite sad.
Improperly Quoted? (If anyone knows who said/wrote this, please contact me. It’s brilliant.)
(Source: nectarus, via overthinkingemily)
come to bed don’t make me sleep alone
couldn’t hide the emptiness you let it show
never wanted it to be so cold…
just didn’t drink enough to say you love me.
lepetitchouette said: ALL I CARE ABOUT IS MONEY
And the city that I’m from. I’m sip until I feel it, Imma smoke until its done. I don’t really give a fuck and my excuse is that I’m young but I’m only getting older somebody should on told them I’m on one.
got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one.