Virginia Woolf’s suicide note, written to her husband Leonard.
On 28 March 1941 Virginia Woolf put on her coat, filled the pockets with rocks and walked into the River Ouse near her home and drowned herself. Her body wasn’t found until 18 April 1941. Her husband burried her cremated remains in their garden.
It just means I’m sat here like yep, that’s true. They don’t like me. Other people are better. Ooo look my best friend =) Not talking to me. Out with everyone else. Saying other people are so wonderful and I’m just sat here because it’s become regular and normal for me to feel soo shitty. And that’s not ok but I’m still not crying because it’s rarely ever ok for anyone. So I’m sad. But when you get used to the sadness I stop bothering with useless things like crying. I think it’s worse….
I’M JUST GOING TO START A BUNNY TAG BECAUSE I JUST REALLY WANT ONE
OMFG GIVE ME IT LOOK AT IT’S SO FUCKING CUTE WHY CAN’T I HAVE ONE UGH LOOK IT’S LITTLE NOSE AND EYES AND WHISKERS AND JUST PERF UGH GIVE ME IT BC CUTEEEEEEEEEY
when their ears go down and they sniff its like asdgjaldfhksvlkadhsbv stahp being so fucking precious
GOD HE LOOKS SO POLITE
- “oh is this for me? really? are you sure?”
- “well okay if you insist. i hope i’m not taking too big of bites i know some people think that’s not gentlemanly”
- “oh this is really delicious, thank you so much i mean it”
- “mmm let me just savor the taste for a bit, mmmm oh yes thanks again for that”
- “yes that is very tasty. oh no you don’t have to give me anymore you’ve done so much already i couldn’t possibly accept so much kindness and generosity, you are an angel”
You know I get really sad when people I care about don’t talk to me when you can see that they’re still doing other random things…like when you see on facebook they’re liking and commenting etc and just…don’t bother talking to you…ok then…nevermind… sorry for bothering you :/