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my friends are really pretty and it stresses me out

She fell, she hurt, she felt. She lived. And for all the tumble of her experiences, she still had hope. Maybe this next time would do the trick. Or maybe not. But unless you stepped into the game, you would never know.

 Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby (via thresca)

(via quote-book)

I wish I wrote the way I thought
Obsessively
Incessantly
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
a lot more
than I should

Benedict Smith, “I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought”  (via growing-orbits)

(via theperksofbeingapsycho)