Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly.
If I live,
Or if I die.
from ‘Songs of Experience’
by William Blake

i would have to be a total brat if i even felt a little sad

Housewife, Beauty Queen, Homewrecker, Idle teen.

The ugly years of being a fool, ain’t youth meant to be beautiful

Queen of no identity

I always feel like someone else

A living myth

I grew up in a lie

I can be anyone

A study in identity & illusion

An Ode to Cindy

A living film

A Real fake

And you will never know

Love.


“Through others, we become ourselves” - The Archetypes

(Source: vintagemachine, via peacegoropen)

(Source: vlisbet, via some-velvet-morning)

Zuzanna Bijoch by David Sims for Alexander McQueen

(Source: antevorta, via kmitt)