Black is not sad. Bright colors are what depresses me. They’re so… empty. Black is poetic. How do you imagine a poet? In a bright yellow jacket?...
"You still talk about that person who used to love you as if they are standing right next to you but you won’t make eye contact when they’re in the same room. You said the aftermath of loving is the equivalent to wearing wet socks every day. I say you need to stop thinking so much and start drying your clothes."
- K.P.K (via