Argus's Obsession

"I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in..."

Mon, 17 Sep 2012 00:45:35 +0300

“I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.”

- (via caleykush)

Audio

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 01:02:36 +0300

Photo

Thu, 23 Aug 2012 17:00:05 +0300

Photo

Wed, 22 Aug 2012 22:16:15 +0300

"The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference."

Thu, 16 Aug 2012 22:19:30 +0300

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”

- Elie Wiesel (via anora2012)

I am, I am, I am.: Sometimes we have to take chances. We have to lose our inhibitions. We...

Mon, 23 Jul 2012 21:13:24 +0300

I am, I am, I am.: Sometimes we have to take chances. We have to lose our inhibitions. We...:

beachhutsandpapercuts:

Sometimes we have to take chances. We have to lose our inhibitions. We have to cry when things get too much, even if it makes us feel weak. We have to confront people that have hurt us, otherwise they’ll do it over and over. We have to smile at people in the hope that they’ll smile back. We have…

This is really awesome.

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 10:06:03 +0300

This is really awesome.

SKYSAREDOORWAYSHOME

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 17:31:37 +0300

survivinginthe-now:

girly, where’s your new URL? your old one is not working!! :’( sobbing a little bit, i had to message you!

It's a sad day when skysaredoorwayshome leaves tumblr.

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 17:31:27 +0300

lafemmeadultere:

You and your words shall be missed. Come back soon.

And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Or thank you.

tempest-at-noon: I am completely depressed because Allie left and again I wonder, “What am I doing...

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 17:31:17 +0300

tempest-at-noon:

I am completely depressed because Allie left and again I wonder, “What am I doing here?”

idontknowart: inside my head

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 10:14:49 +0300

idontknowart:

inside my head

I am, I am, I am.: This is a piece of writting I did a while ago; I'm hoping it'll be the part of a book (explaining why some parts might...

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 09:37:20 +0300

I am, I am, I am.: This is a piece of writting I did a while ago; I'm hoping it'll be the part of a book (explaining why some parts might...:

Someone find her publisher already!

beachhutsandpapercuts:

The snow was beautiful. Breathtakingly so, she realised, as she found herself swiftly inhaling at the sight of it. It swept down to the ground below her feet in marvellous flurries, settling on everything it touched throughout its journey to the earth. Within moments, her long hair was covered…

tempest-at-noon: A spoken word recording of Cyclical, to tell...

Mon, 04 Jun 2012 09:46:34 +0300

tempest-at-noon:

A spoken word recording of Cyclical, to tell you all that I’m staying.

Excuse the utter blackness of my eyes. The light is awful in my room.

In the office.

Fri, 01 Jun 2012 10:25:52 +0300

In the office.

150 words or less...

Thu, 31 May 2012 11:23:00 +0300

Water cooler, coffee machine, refrigerator, computers and empty cubicles. That describes ninety percent of office spaces around the world. A grey wallpaper that could sadden morgue residents. The occasional photo of a loved one or child. Nothing so interesting as a dream holiday in site. There is a month old joke on the noticeboard alongside a list of birthdays. There is a fluffy pink soft toy clinging to a small tree. The most attention the plants get is the weekly watering, they are invisible, like most corporate employees trying to exist unnoticed. When did people become so afraid to be wrong, or to risk something that they would rather spend day after day hiding in a dreary corner with bad lighting. Where did passion go, or rather why is it hidden from the world. Passion once poured from our hearts now drips like a lost ice cube at the edge of a table, should to much flow it will slide at shatter.

thewritersaddress: I think my belief in true...

Thu, 31 May 2012 10:04:47 +0300

thewritersaddress:

                             I think my belief
                      in true love and art
                           is the main reason
                    why the real world
                             often disappoints me.

you forget.

Mon, 28 May 2012 16:21:20 +0300

blankpagesandinvisibleink:

you forget who you are
after days at the sea,

you forget who you are

and you remember who
you’re supposed to be.

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 17:20:30 +0300

I am, I am, I am.: A Letter to Myself

Thu, 24 May 2012 15:53:20 +0300

I am, I am, I am.: A Letter to Myself:

beachhutsandpapercuts:

I’m going to tell you some things, and you have to listen to them.
Okay?

You have to stop.
You have to stop letting every little thing get to you. You have to stop over analysing every little thing someone says to you. You have to stop worrying about what people think of you. You have to…

skysaredoorwayshome: She has ...

Wed, 23 May 2012 13:10:22 +0300

skysaredoorwayshome:

She has
piano notes carved in-
to her hips, because
you
wrapped
your
arms
around
her
waist,
and
bled
rhythms
on her
neck every
time she
played
Now every
key feels like it is carved
from your teeth, and her finger-
tips carry their marks in curved moon
scars like crescents. Your ghost
has stopped echoing on
her neck, but never
the keys.