“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ‘til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.”—Virginia Wolf’s note to her husband before she committed suicide (via doomedworld)
“I love to smoke. Smoking a cigarette is like forgetting. When I hit rock bottom it’s all I have. Light up, smoke up, shut the fuck up. It hides the shit. The smoke hides the shit. There’s menthol and vanilla. Some people like ‘em. Menthol cigarette. Vanilla cigarette. Chocolate cigarette. Cigarette cigarette. Cigarettes keep me from going crazy. Keeps me alive. It keeps me alive until I die.”—Marie, Les amours imaginaires (via doritoslut)
I don’t eat sweet things.
I don’t eat greasy things.
Anorexia has nothing to do with fashion.
I hate all children.
I don’t want to have a social life.
I hate to be touched by strangers.
I have no ambition.
I’m the most selfish person in the world.