“Don’t live the same year 75 times and call it a life.”
— Robin Sharma (via h-auptgewinn)

(via walkwalkpassionbaby)

Part of me just wants to throw everything away and drive around the country before settling somewhere I can just work under the table and draw or write until I meet someone lovely and just let the days play out as they shall.


Like Joel in Eternal Sunshine, I rush headfirst into women that show me affection. I’m particularly hopeless if they fit into the ideal of a woman that I have created during the last decade of drunken nights where I’ve fallen in love at the bar with someone new over a glance across the top of my…


"Don’t do it. Don’t go to that job you hate. Do something you love today. Ride a roller coaster. Swim in the ocean. Go to the airport and get on the next flight to anywhere just for the fun of it. Maybe stop a spinning globe with your finger and then plan a trip to that very spot; even if it’s in the middle of the ocean you can go by boat. Eat some type of ethnic food you’ve never even heard of. Stop a stranger and ask her to explain her greatest fears and her secret hopes and aspirations in detail and then tell her you care because she is a human being. Sit down on the sidewalk and make pictures with colorful chalk. Close your eyes and try to see the world with your nose—allow smells to be your vision. Catch up on your sleep. Call an old friend you haven’t seen in years. Roll up your pant legs and walk into the sea. See a foreign film. Feed squirrels. Do anything! Something! Because you start a revolution one decision at a time, with each breath you take… " 🔥 @charcoalalley🔥


"She won’t talk to me until I get my shit together."
“Who’s she?”
“Every man has a She.”

(via booksbourbonandblues)


It is no secret that a song can take you back to a moment. Think of how many times you have heard your favorite song on the radio and you remember that night you were at a concert and the band played it. It transports you back to the moment instantly as the faulty camera of your mind does its…


"great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper.
good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.”

- Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last


Your flitting nature, in, out, here, there, and nowhere at once. You, too afraid to let go. Me, wanting to to disappear into your lies. It’s easy to run when you refuse to want, when you treat it all like it doesn’t exist. It is your greatest talent. That ache in your chest you desperately want…

The full moon, Death Cab for Cutie, and these conversations are not good for my mind.