I don’t like my face. I don’t like how it gets all puffy and tired-looking. I hate my thighs. And the scars on them. I hate how my arms are so short and round and stubby. I hate the way that my feet can’t even walk a mile without stumbling on themselves. Sometimes I think that my body is a fitting punishment for all the awful things I’ve done. God I hate myself. 

"Looking at the stars always makes me dream. Why, I ask myself, shouldn’t the shining dots of the sky be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France? Just as we take the train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star." — Vincent van Gogh

(via vintagegal)