It makes me sick, the way sadness is addicting. The way I can't stop. Sadness is familiar. It's comfortable and it's easy in a sense that it comes naturally to me. But everything else about it is hard. The way my body aches with self-hatred. The way my mind spins and spins with hopeless thoughts. The way it poisons everything I do, every relationship I have. Yet it’s addicting, because I know sadness, and I know it very well. And there's a sort of comfort in that, like being home after a trip or sleeping in your own bed after being away. There's just a sense that it's where I belong. This is how it's supposed to be. ☼ Om Shanti ☾ | florawild:  
florawild: “ ”

florawild:

 

Posted on January 14, 2014
Reblogged from champane, posted by ahlmondmilk

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