(Source: dontexxpect, via loveyourchaos)
(Source: thedarknessafterthesun, via loveyourchaos)
(Source: l-uciferia, via afflicti0ns)
(via loveyourchaos)
(Source: cocoaaaaa, via mermaidslovecake)
(via sexual-passion)
(via sexual-passion)
(Source: gigianomaly, via afflicti0ns)
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
—Anna Peters (via thescottishgirl)
(Source: winterkristall, via chanellechanelle)
(Source: trans-par-en-cy, via afflicti0ns)
