(Source: chieon, via unpeeling)

posted 3 days ago with 44,125 notes  chieon)

I fear intimacy too much that I refused to share my umbrella with him even if it was raining so hard because I was afraid our shoulders would touch.

posted 3 days ago with 2 notes 





Self portrait taken by a seven-year-old John Lennon. His handwriting on the back of the picture says:

Me at Fleetwood the year I lost my trunks in Mr. Shipway’s garden

 This is so sweet.

:) im :) crying :)

i cant

(Source: everlarkdandelions, via free-as-lennon)

posted 4 days ago with 1,102 notes  everlarkdandelions)

the amount of cigarettes i smoke a day is directly proportional to the amount of bullshit i receive in a day

posted 1 week ago with 1 note 

maybe it was how we let the cold hard floor and pneumonia taunt us that night

helplessly lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling’s ghost structures until our chests felt so cold

filling the spaces between the loose floorboards with cigarette smoke and contained silences instead of saying the necessary things

but instead of saying things, we let our damaged parts talk to each other, making sure to damage ourselves more by baring our backs to that cold hard floor

posted 1 week ago with 2 notes 

I figured out that maybe it was only in a haze of a drunken hour that you made me feel my bones crumble to powder and my already damaged lungs turn into a knot

because tomorrow when I wake up sober, these fleeting feelings might be gone, and your face wouldn’t even push a single bone out of place

and I’d probably go back to telling the universe that this isn’t probably the thing I need most

posted 2 weeks ago with 3 notes