B.
@MinasMorgul
199 okur puanı
Ağustos 2018 tarihinde katıldı
Şu anda okuduğu kitap
Okuma Hedefleri
Why, in this world, do homes and happiness always get destroyed, and friends and confidantes always meet up late?
Heroes will get to the ends of their roads, beauties will lose their charms as they age… if someone wants to live according to their own hearts, how difficult should that be?
If someone has only themself their whole life, on-guard against everyone aside from themself at all times and all places, never being close to anyone, never feeling anything for anyone, only loving themself… wouldn’t that be miserable? Being a bad guy… is too painful.
In this world, there is only one thing that can destroy evil spirits… and it’s the human heart.
Okur Takip Önerileri
Sworn ties between the great houses were no more than lies and treachery, and yet, strangers who met by chance could survive by leaning on each other
If I am no longer myself, why should I still keep living?
Ever since the ancient times, the single word “love” has always inflicted the deepest wounds, but what can we do about it?
When the wind and rain comes in the night, who knows how many tears are shed…
One only knew autumn when the cold rain came; parasol trees dying of old age; the suffering of the cold under a thin blanket; wasting your lifetimes away… all belated regrets in the end, regrets that we hadn’t met sooner.
Those who knew me spoke of my sorrows, and those who did not said I was seeking something…
I spent most of my life drifting… never really knowing who I was, or what I was meant to be.
Good people get hurt, bad ones walk free, and things just happen. Chaos within an infinite, spiraling cosmic circus. The only thing we can do is have faith in us, find beauty in the pain, and laugh as much as possible.
Time went by but ıt didn't pass
The devastation of it all is weighing on my shoulders. I can barely carry it anymore…
This terrible, awful truth I hold is so very exhausting.
Whether I feel different or not, it doesn’t matter. I can run from every person, every place that reminds me of my past, but it’s still always there.
Distraction, denial, avoidance… they don’t work.
Because I’m still broken inside, and nobody fucking cares.
If anyone has a vial of poison they’d like to slip into my coat pocket, now’s the time.
Anyone relates
So I suppose I am able to care about things… They’re just not things that will help me in any real way. In fact, it seems like the things I care about are things that will ultimately fuck me over.
It’s a great spot to be in.
I could use the distraction. Because lately whenever I’m by myself, the silence seems to echo louder than someone screaming directly in my face.