This fantasy, this fallacy

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Find what you love and let it kill you - Charles Bukowski.
B. 17. Lost.
16bruises: untitled by carninscatola on Flickr.
"There were no sex classes. No friendship classes. No classes on how to navigate a bureaucracy, build an organization, raise money, create a database, buy a house, love a child, spot a scam, talk someone out of suicide, or figure out what was important to me. Not knowing how to do these things is what messes people up in life, not whether they know algebra or can analyze literature."
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  William Upski Wimsatt (via seattledarling)

(Source: radicalginger, via janesaustens)


ob-livion: 51/365 I thought I should explain what I meant with this really short poem; I’ve been quite depressed lately, and I think that if anyone would ask me to describe what depression feels like, I’d present him this. I know that the world is lovely, however a dark cloud rests on my eyes, and I cannot see the sunshine, I cannot see the beauty, all I can see is the darkness. (This should explain why ‘get over it’ or ‘be more positive’ doesn’t really help someone who’s depressed).