thistle blood
hello.
small and shy, this iswhere i go to dream.
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"I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then." — Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness (via patehtic)
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(Source: theunquotables, via throughpaincomesgrowth)
