Sidebar image by Mithridate [x]
Hi. I'm Sarah. I reblog stuff that I am anywhere from mildly to obscenely obsessed with and pretend I'm cultured. It's a very taxing lifestyle.
Previously known as rainbowbags, thalassophiliac, and whimsicalosity.

What is this? A serious post?

I figured I should probably start posting stuff that doesn’t have to do with pointless rants or awesome pictures.

I present to you a snippet of a story I’ve been working on for a while now. I specifically chose it so that it wouldn’t reveal anything about what this story actually is. And I sincerely hope that it doesn’t sound anything like purple prose.


Pain. Agony. Whatever you wanted to call it.

It was all he felt, all day, all night. All he knew.

Even in his dreams it was a constant companion, pressing in on him from all sides, threatening to suffocate him with its sickening emptiness.

In the darkness of his sleeping mind, he groped out for something – anything – that would keep him from falling into oblivion. His fingers found nothing, and he tumbled down into a place where there was no escape from the demons that haunted him.

After a while, he realized that there was some strange wetness on his cheeks. Because he had never succumbed in his life, because he had never given up, because he had never ever been alone like this, he didn’t figure out what it was for a long time.

They were tears.

He had been broken.