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And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.

She was always holding my hand  (via fabulousbitch69)

(via dauqhter)

Frankly, I was horrified by life, at what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed. So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.

Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell (via elevenminutes)

(via pimpled-punk)