Awful.
(Source : reves-et-cauchemars)
O amor é um precipício. A gente se joga nele… e reza pro chão nunca chegar.(via deist)
(Source : ephemeral-dreamers, via ninamarc)
I expected you to ask something but you’re not really interested, are you?
“I’m not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I’ve always been a freak. So I’ve been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know. I’m one of those people.”
(Source : chheyennee2, via hippie-indie)
It’s so hard for me to look back. I see a bunch of people I loved that don’t even talk to me anymore. I see many smiles, all of them so sincere - at least they seemed to be. I try to recall those feelings but I can’t do it, it’s like they’re blocked for some reason. My eyes don’t stop watering, my head aches incessantly. Sometimes I get the feeling that I’m going crazy. Actually crazy. I hear people saying things and doing the opposite, I hear them talking to me in different ways - not usual ways. I see myself in the mirror as someone that’s changed and is not there yet, is not present, is not happy to be there. I listen to music and it gives me nostalgia, I feel my stomach burning, my eyes closing not to face reality. I beg, I beg so many times… I beg that something will pick me up and drop me somewhere else, somewhere I can feel my heart beating as my own - not someone else’s. I look for people to help me but I feel like no one is there. No one is there. No one fits, no one seems to hear me as I talk. No one seems to take me seriously. They sound like nothing… Like the wind speaking. Like something that wouldn’t ever understand me. Yes, I feel misunderstood. That’s why I save my words, my time and my consciousness. They say I’m not the same, I’m treating them differently. Little do they know I’m just hiding what I can’t explain - or maybe what they can’t understand. Or maybe both.
