I’m running out of friends to go blow off some steam with at the bars. Girls, work, lack of interest. Guess I’m solo Guinness tonight…
Running. Reading. Writing. Manhood. Parkour. Women. Stephen King. Bond. Not in any particular order...Ask me anything
Drunk on a Wednesday because my fucking interview recording is gone. Disappeared. There’s nothing left. Insufficient notes. Let down partner. Disappointed editor, now unwilling to act as a positive reference for jobs. Great. Awesome. Fuck.
Your faith fails you, and you replace it with rational thought. But there is no love in thought, nothing that lasts in deduction, only death in rationalism. Stephen King. “The Dark Tower VI: Song Of Susannah”. (via fuckyeah-unclesteve)
Reality is a mystery, and the everyday texture of things is the cloth we draw over it to mask its brightness and darkness. Stephen King. “Just After Sunset”. (via fuckyeah-unclesteve)
Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night’s sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too. Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid (via dissapolnted)
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