“ A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.
— D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover (via insanity-and-vanity)
“ And I think I’m over you. And I think I’m okay. But then I realize that the eyes I was drawing in my notebook in the middle of class have got that same droopy look around the edges that you had at four in the morning before you fell asleep on me. And I got this song stuck in my head on wednesday and I was humming it all day until I finally remembered that it was the song you played from me the night my mom crashed her car. I think you’re still in me. I can’t get you out. You’re still there in the little nooks and cracks of my body and no matter how many times I bleed myself dry or peel my skin from my bones, I can never seem to get all of you out. There are always traces of you. I haven’t seen you in six months. I still see you everywhere.
— Oh god what if I never forget (via extrasad)