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"Strawberry fields forever."

To hell with growing up: I refuse to give up my allready-cried-on pillow, and my washed out blue sheets. I refuse to give adulthood a healthy stomach, coffee-less and sober of untreated fun. I refuse to allow my liver to age properly, and to drown its sorrows in “tea, please.” I refuse to let my increasing years become a scientific dissertation; I wont allow my days to be my thesis statement. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t mind my face full of the sodium chloride from my evaporated tears -as long as they’re the result of a lung-destroying laugh; or from the so welcomed sweat of love making, repeatedly. 

(Source: octoberobserver, via ginainterrupted)

Tanto espacio y yo solaaaa, vacia de ti!! Suele suceder…

potato aaaaahhhh


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