Weren’t we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by...– Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay (via thechocolatebrigade)
Who hasn’t asked himself, am I a monster or is this what it means to be human?– Clarice Lispector (via thechocolatebrigade)
You and I, we were nothing but two lonely souls.. gravitated towards each other. In this intoxicating madness of oblivion, we were hopelessly drawn. Young. Tragic. Apathetic. You and I, such a fucking mess.
I saw the sky and sea and sand and the flickering flames of the bonfire through...– NP by Banana Yoshimoto (via thechocolatebrigade)
It’s all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it...– Jack Kerouac (via thechocolatebrigade)
Happiness is overrated (?)
Today I think, People are happy for all the wrong reasons. And that depresses me even more. Fuck your lies. Fuck you all. Fuck, fuck, fuck. But then there are days when I’m like, “Overrated my ass.” “I’m happy and I don’t give a shit about whatever underlying causes you smart asses may frown upon.” This and that. Individualism this. ...
Everyone has like.. someone.
Okay. And I’m just here.. Acting like I don’t give a fuck.
Strange children should smile at each other and say, “Let’s play.– Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald (via bloodisthenewblackk)