Surprisingly, perfectionists are often procrastinators, as they can tend to think “I don’t have the right skills or resources to do this perfectly now, so I won’t do it at all.”

(Source: myeyesarehazel, via eletheowl)


“You know that death is the most beautiful part of life, right? Death is beautiful because we all fear death. And fear is the most amazing emotion of all because it creates complete awareness. It brings you to now, and it makes you truly present. And when you’re truly present, that’s nirvana. That’s pure love. So death is pure love.”

“You know that death is the most beautiful part of life, right? Death is beautiful because we all fear death. And fear is the most amazing emotion of all because it creates complete awareness. It brings you to now, and it makes you truly present. And when you’re truly present, that’s nirvana. That’s pure love. So death is pure love.”

(Source: executiveshade, via eletheowl)

Depression does not always mean
Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists
A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity
Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

Sometimes depression means
Not getting out of bed for three days
Because your feet refuse to believe
That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

Sometimes depression means
That summoning the willpower
To go downstairs and do the laundry
Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

Sometimes depression means
Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours
Because you cannot convince your body
That it is capable of movement

Sometimes depression means
Not being able to write for weeks
Because the only words you have to offer the world
Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

Sometimes depression means
That every single bone in your body aches
But you have to keep going through the motions
Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

Sometimes depression means
Ignoring every phone call for an entire month
Because yes, they have the right number
But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore

Hannah Nicole (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: ughpasta, via eletheowl)

There’s that word again. Need. I need you. I need you to need me. How nauseating, to need another human being, as if their heart is in your throat. Love isn’t about need. Don’t romanticize the notion of desperation. Let me let you in on a secret: you don’t need me and I don’t need you. We can get through life just fine without each other. Love is not wanting to. We want each other, we want skin and hands and all our daily scars. We want intoxication and art museums and intertwined limbs. We want ferocity in our lips and tracing slow, small circles on our stomachs. I don’t need you in my life, but goddamn I want you in it.
All the Want in the World Cannot Fit in Our Hands (via constellationofaquarius)

(Source: typewriterdaily, via jetblackheart)

(Source: whitebloodocean, via sseptumss)

52hearts:

Sometimes you just can’t escape the magnetism that comes with still being half in love with someone.

(Source: unvollendung, via sseptumss)

I want to explain how exhausted I am. Even in my dreams. How I wake up tired. How I’m being drowned by some kind of black wave.
Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation (via sylviaplant)

(Source: larmoyante, via jetblackheart)

I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore.
Marguerite Duras, from Hiroshima, Mon Amour  (via forgettvble)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via killerpussy)

… and the weight of the earth is pressed to my ribs.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via wavingtovirginia)

(via langleav)