The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
Anonymous asked: Self harm? Seriously attentions whores like you are better off dead. Either finish it off already or fucking deal with it.. Its called life. Everyone has one. Big. Fucking. Deal. Dumbass
A. Even if it was for attention, there’s nothing wrong with wanting attention when you don’t get much of it in the first place
B. posting about this shit actually helps me work through this shit because I link with other people with my problem
C. talking to assholes like you is hilarious because you think you’ve got me pegged as some dumbass. Like, fuck you. I know everyone’s got a life, self-harm is not the only thing about me. I guarantee I actually have more talent, personality, friends, potential, and overall intelligence than you. Between the two of us, you should be the one with the addiction since you’re clearly a selfish asshole who has to spend their time putting people down.
P.S. It’s called life. Everyone has one. Go deal with your own.
Does anyone know who the dude is Natasha’s holding on the Haunted Man album cover?
Tichy was an eccentric. He was held prisoner for almost a decade in Soviet labor camps just for that—being an eccentric, falsely accused of dissidence.
Upon his release in the early 70s he wandered his small town in rags pursuing his voyeuristic obsession with the female form by photographing women unawares in the streets, shops and parks, through windows and fences, with cameras he fashioned out of tin cans, children’s eyeglass lenses and other junk he’d pick up while wandering.