Sometimes you fall up these stairs, but it’s a long time before you know.
No matter where my heart is now, there’s a long, long way to go.
(via 32memories)
I’m a broken cigarette.
I’m dried-up paint.
God, I’m just terrified.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
“We never talk about it / We hide it all away / We never talk about it / It’s too much to say.”
(Source: straypaper)
Oh, if I had a son,
I would make him laugh.
I would teach him something.
I’d say, “Son, you got to hold your own,
And it’s good to have a taste for traveling alone.”
