still searching for what

scaredy cat


23 September 2014 - 23:32

"He said I was art. Not that I was alike it in any way, not that I reminded him of it in any sort, but that I took it like physical form, like he saw my bones as framework in a paper mâché sculpture and my skin like thick acrylics over canvas, like the words that dripped from my mouth took the shape of notes on sheet music, like I bled coffee on cold mornings, like I breathed smoke from smothered campfires and spit the embers - there many different kinds of art.

I said he was art. He was art in that he was beautiful, in that people could stare at him for hours narrowing their eyes and nervously fingering museum pamphlets just trying to figure out exactly what he meant, something so beautiful. There was something surreal about the way his eyes could pierce human skin with curiosity; there was something abstract in how his clockwork never seemed to move in one lone direction. He was something to interpret he was something that made you feel something but you never could describe it.

I think that most times art is not something to be delineated. Sometimes I could not put definitions into how or why or what he was thinking; maybe I wasn’t meant to.”

paint by Jacób

(via angry-plant)


"If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face -forever.” - George Orwell


"If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face -forever.” - George Orwell

(via s-k-e-t-c-h-e-d)



Kids Give Their Opinions About Marriage…

Pam’s going far in life.

(via stonersbeingsoldiers)

(Source:, via ssaavv)


Andrew Lyman | Tumblr

Fleeted Happenings

(via angry-plant)

(Source: staypozitive)

Today I had a teacher tell me that a family member of theirs attempted suicide with pills.
I asked why he didn’t seem more concerned, and he replied with “people who attempt overdose are just attention seeking.”

Tell that to my grandma while she had to shower me for a month because I couldn’t stand after my overdose.

Tell that to my younger cousin who didn’t understand why I slept for three days straight.

Tell that to my bestfriend who saw me cry in every moment I was awake for two weeks after I swallowed those little pieces of hell.

Tell that to my brother who watched me vomit up everything I ate because my stomach was on fire.

Tell that to my teachers who watched me fail my exams because I was so dizzy and out of it I couldn’t stand, let alone concentrate.

Tell that to my mum, who watched me violently shake, sweat, convulse and cry in her arms because I didn’t want to be alive.

Go on, tell them it’s attention seeking. I dare you.

—   (via sighbroken)

(Source: sighbroken, via stonersbeingsoldiers)

Chii~ Chobits.
School girl ver.