Los meses seguiran pasando y en ninguno de ellos se ira tu recuerdo.
“do you remember when you were a child
and you thought
that when you became a teenager
when you became older,
you would party every night
until 4 am
its quite ironic
because little did you know
that at 4 am
you’d be hysterically crying
and debating whether or not to take your life.”
Every day is just another battle, another war against myself, until one day I’ll lose. What’s the point?
I am not actually tired, but numb and heavy, and can’t find the right words. All I can say is: Stay with me, don’t leave me.
Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice (via lavieciel)
Wake up.
Tired.
Alone.
Empty.
Sadness (via cheshirekaetzchen)
Just me,myself and I 