"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning"

“I'd like to help you doctor
Yes I really really would
But the din in my head
It's too much and it's no good
I'm standing in a windy tunnel
Shouting through the roar
And I'd like to give the information
You're asking for."



"All you need is trust and a little bit of pixie dust"

Hannah Murphy ♥ / 2/5/1991 / Singapore
“One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night




"To love would be an awfully big adventure"

Sunday, May 19, 2013 || 8:00 AM

Well, wood burns, and metal rusts,
So, darling, what’s to become of us,
When the weather turns, and they say it must,
Well, we’ll need coats for the both of us,
But the wool is thin and it’s full of holes,
And there’s no heat in this abandoned bus,
So will we go alone, out on our own,
Oh, darling, what’s to become of us

 Well, boats sink into the sea,
And airplanes that crash like computer screens,
And signals fail, trains derail,
And car bonnets crumple like magazines,
‘Til they’re put in piles like stacks of tiles,
In a yard full of fridges and broken stuff,
Will we go alone out on our own,
Oh, darling, what’s to become of us

We will bite our noses off to spite our faces,
Both of us will rust like metal fences in the rain,
You will pour the gasoline and I will spark the matches,
We will burn within our fire, we will burn within our flames
 Well, yeast ferments and milk sours,
When it’s out of the fridge for too many hours,
Well, we lament in separate towers,
Never knowing if we’re brave or if we’re cowards,
For they pour cement down this hole of ours,
And we’ll be stuck under stones and flowers,
Will we go alone out on our own,
Oh, darling, that’s what will become of us