Atelophobic Anhedonia

the odds are never in our favour

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 22:31:38 +0100

the odds are never in our favour

"Well, let’s see. After you decide that I’m depressed, or whatever, you’ll put me on meds, right?..."

Thu, 20 Sep 2012 22:00:55 +0100

“Well, let’s see. After you decide that I’m depressed, or whatever, you’ll put me on meds, right? Well I know hundreds of people on them and they’re all doing just fine. Really. I’ll go back to work on my new anti-depressants, have dinner with my parents and persuade them I’m back to being the normal one who never gives them any trouble. And one day some guy will ask me to marry him. He’ll be nice enough. That’ll make my parents very happy. The first year we’ll make love all the time, and in the second and third less and less. But just as we’re getting sick of each other, I’ll get pregnant. Taking care of kids, holding onto jobs, paying mortgages, It’ll keep us on an even keel for a while. Then about ten years into it he’ll have an affair because I’m too busy and I’m too tired. And I’ll find out. I’ll threaten to kill him, his mistress… myself. We’ll get past it. A few years later he’ll have another one. This time I’m just going to pretend that I don’t know because somehow kicking up a fuss just doesn’t seem worth the trouble this time. And I’ll live out the rest of my days sometimes wishing my kids could have the life that I never had. Other times secretly pleased they’re turning into repeats of me. I’m fine. Really.”

- Veronika Decides To Die (via reedusnorman)

Ni mis besos serían hoy los de los dos…

Mon, 20 Aug 2012 22:15:00 +0100

Ni mis besos serían hoy los de los dos…

La guitarra.

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 23:38:00 +0100

Empieza el llanto de la guitarra.
Se rompen las copas de la madrugada.
Empieza el llanto de la guitarra.
Es inútil callarla.

Llora monótona como llora el agua,
como llora el viento sobre la nevada.
Es imposible callarla.

Llora por cosas lejanas.
Arena del Sur caliente
que pide camelias blancas.

Llora flecha sin blanco,
la tarde sin mañana,
y el primer pájaro muerto
sobre la rama.

¡Oh guitarra!
Corazón malherido
por cinco espadas.

Federico García Lorca.

Photo

Wed, 23 May 2012 22:14:11 +0100

Quand ils ont dormi ensemble pour la première fois, il s’est endormi la main posée sur sa poitrine....

Tue, 22 May 2012 11:14:00 +0100

Quand ils ont dormi ensemble pour la première fois, il s’est endormi la main posée sur sa poitrine.

Maintenant il sents son coeur battre dans sa paume, et chaque pulsation le rapproche de lui.

I’ve been crying throughout the last 50 pages of The Time Traveler’s Wife. God...

Sat, 31 Mar 2012 18:17:22 +0100

I’ve been crying throughout the last 50 pages of The Time Traveler’s Wife.

God it’s AGES since this last happened to me. It’s beautiful.

Me vuelvo a perder entre la inmensidad de las páginas. Soy feliz.

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 23:00:00 +0100

Me vuelvo a perder entre la inmensidad de las páginas. Soy feliz.

"Stories, stories… What’s a story? When you were in high school did you learn about the Civil War?..."

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 12:14:57 +0100

“

Stories, stories… What’s a story? When you were in high school did you learn about the Civil War? (Yeah, of course.)How? Did you per chance read avout it in a book? How is that less real than any other book?”
History books are based on history.
Story books are based on what? Imagination? Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere. You know what the issues is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution to their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

(“Heres the thing J, this is it. This is the real world.”)
A real world. How arrogant are you to think yours is the only one? There infinite more. You have to open your mind. They touch one another, pressing up in a long line of lands, each just as real as the last. All have their own rules. Some have magic, some don’t. And some need magic. Like this one.

”

- Mad Hatter, Once Upon a Time [1x17] (via stillnotthereyet)

Se acabó el dejar cosas a medias.

Sun, 25 Mar 2012 22:39:00 +0100

Se acabó el dejar cosas a medias.

Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.

Sat, 24 Mar 2012 22:34:00 +0000

Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.

Bring back the happy endings. This fucking thrills me.

Wed, 14 Mar 2012 15:56:00 +0000

Bring back the happy endings.

This fucking thrills me.

One Graphicpost per Season 1 of Once Upon A Time ↳► 1.15 Red...

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 12:13:24 +0000

One Graphicpost per Season 1 of Once Upon A Time
↳► 1.15 Red Handed

L’histoire de ma vie. Sauf qu’il n’y a...

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 11:00:47 +0000

L’histoire de ma vie. Sauf qu’il n’y a personne qui sonne à la porte.

It’s funny how the decision of chosing one language or another has thrust my life on a path...

Wed, 07 Mar 2012 18:29:48 +0000

It’s funny how the decision of chosing one language or another has thrust my life on a path that I am trying to avoid at all costs. Tant pis, c’est pas grave. I’ll amend my ways.

Frame down. Tired.

Sun, 04 Mar 2012 22:53:40 +0000

Frame down. Tired.

I just realized I want to live my life.

Fri, 24 Feb 2012 18:42:41 +0000

I just realized I want to live my life.

I long to be the light in your darkest days.

Fri, 16 Dec 2011 20:33:08 +0000

I long to be the light in your darkest days.

I remember that once I kissed someone I thought I loved and while I was doing it something in my...

Thu, 08 Dec 2011 19:58:00 +0000

I remember that once I kissed someone I thought I loved and while I was doing it something in my head was telling me that was wrong. It felt odd, walking hand in hand, sweating, and wondering wether that feeling would ever fade and leave room for love and the fluttery madness with it. I thought it did, but it never did. And I thought I had my heart broken in two when we severed, but all I felt after the fake tears was relief. Relief.

Sundays

Sun, 23 Oct 2011 16:27:30 +0100

I got up startled once and ever since then I have been unable to go through a normal Sunday.

I despise being awake, but I fear going to bed and what dreams may bring.

Sunday is gloomy.