I want to live in a little cottage covered in ivy, with a white wrought iron fence around it, lined with pink rose bushes, and a cobbled pathway leading up to the front door. There will be a room holding hundreds of books where I can drink tea in the mornings and cuddle up in an old armchair when it’s raining.
omg this this this
(via e-ndymion)
I’m unhappy with so many things in life and I don’t know how to change that. I usually don’t feel this shitty. Most of the time, I can fake it real good and never even really realize that I’m faking it until I have a random breakdown.
I think what’s more upsetting is how I can’t turn to anyone when I feel like this because I’m the person that everyone turns to when they feel like how I feel. But when it’s me that needs help, there’s nobody there.
