"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)

feeling in italics, thoughts in bold.

she had a raging war within her dark black soul. in him, she found solace. slowly withering away as tear gas and destructive bombs of self-doubt invaded her thoughts. the raging war within her, evident on her surface, left scars that stained her frame. he stripped her and exposed her, staring down at her. Beautiful, he thought. Beautiful, he uttered. Beautiful, it echoed, deep into her soul. paralyzing the darkness… silencing the war. 

(Source: evetukale)