stillast*r

It just seems like we're taking all the last vowels out of words now.
That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it. Joan Didion, “Goodbye to All That” (via pinkhotel)

(via nogreatillusion)