Lunexstar - Luna

—  Franz Kafka, Letter to His Father

(via)

“Never apologize for how you feel. No one can control how they feel. The sun doesn’t apologize for being the sun. The rain doesn’t say sorry for falling. Feelings just are.”

— Iain S. Thomas, Intentional Dissonance

A YouTube comment that spoke to me <3

by astrailor_jp

The urge to want to know everything that this universe contains, the urge to have read every book ever written and memorising every poem by heart. And the guilt of not doing so.

Something about angel wings-

Much about a broken heart.

I don’t know why people would continue to choose me and invest in me.

One day, between the headlights and the sound of the shower, it might start to get easier. Everytime it does, I start to drown again. Maybe it’s because after a while, I’m sick of fighting and It’s much easier to sink, to falter, to fail. After a while, people stop expecting things from you, teachers favourite loser. Pretty horrible for a perfectionist and overachiever.

I don’t know why this is something I continue to struggle with. I have food, money, a girlfriend who treats me like a alluring flower, even though I have bugs inside. They start to eat me every so often and people get to peer inside, behind my petals. I shouldn’t be struggling and yet I am.

It may be the writer in me but it’s something I can’t contain. Enough to scare my friends, enough to make my girlfriend hold me tight, enough to keep my mind occupied. Like a dark cloud that follows me, I can’t shake it. I know I’m a bad person, I’ve tried to change, but inside I feel it. The anger, the pain, the sadness, the frustration. Almost reluctant to admit how often my mind feels like an LDR song.

It makes sense that people wouldn’t want to be around all this. My mind constantly running, never turning off. Why would someone want to be with someone who always has a running commentary and an opinion about everything. I should get paid for the way I ruin peoples days, on and off again, like a carousel.

But it’s okay, I don’t care at the end of the day. Isn’t that right?

Brightstar; John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.