Sometimes I wonder whether I have any real intelligence or if I just have enough random bits of surface knowledge to bullshit my way through most things.
I’m doing badly, I’m doing well, whichever you prefer.
|—||Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (via abattoirette)|
Please talk to me
when demons claim our home.
Please hold my hand
when darkness eats our years.
It is hard to be someone
and to live softly,
but it will be easier
if we do it together.
|—||When demons claim our home, Emm Roy. (via emmisnotshortforemma)|
*emotional text post about being alone and smoking*