I hunger for intensity. For love, affection, for tangible.
For ineffable. For infinity. For discovery.
I hunger for knowledge.
Life is filled with wonders.
Die knowing something. Die loving something.
February 03, 2015 | 09:36 a.m.
“And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.”— Sylvia Plath
(via thoughtkick)
Be the villain you were born to be. Stop waiting for someone to come along and corrupt you. Succumb to the darkness yourself.
I don’t want mindless adoration—I desire tranquil, deep-rooted, unspeakable intimacy.
*someone threatens me with a knife*
Me: joke’s on you, now I’m horny
touch starved on main. lovesick fool, absolutely begging for affection on main
please be clingy with me i need it






