"Do not fall in love with people like me. I will take you to museums and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place; so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand, why storms are named after people."

favorite quote, for August. goodbye August.

(Source: evetukale)

Age 17.

I remember bits and pieces of when I used to see the world in colour. How elegantly vibrant everything seemed. The collision of colours beguiled my sad fancy into smiling, but now. I don’t know. I’ve been cursed with the ability of growing up, and those once vibrant colors are a mere memory in the back of my mind; a deep part that I don’t have the power to access anymore. I fear that I’m losing touch with reality and slowly the hands of time are pulling me into a deep, inevitable illusion of age and despair: of nothingness in a world full of darkness. Looking in the mirror I’d see my hair, a raven mop of life, my eyes a dark brown telescope that saw the world in an animated manner. Now that brown telescope a hollow socket that carries no emotion while my facial expression forcefully replaced by a frown as I’m too busy caught up in memories of losing my youth, trying to forget past paramours, and constantly reminding myself that I am not good enough. 

(Source: evetukale)