The Victim, 1904
Far up in the mountains,
where the rain fall not far,
yet the Sun cannot reach.
The wizards, my servants,
Oil paintings by Alyssa Monks.
"Nothing seems to make sense; I’m tired, tired of it all, I’ve stopped searching for meanings… there are none. Time heals nothing, all it does is make you more bitter, more twisted, yet sucks the life out of you… leaving you too apathetic to seek revenge. Revenge on a society that has lied to you since the day you were born. Only humanity would fill its days with so much fucking misery to prove to itself that it must be worth something. To whom? To whom are you worth something? Who would ever fucking miss you? Who will miss you when you are dead? I will tell you… no one…"
Primordial ~ Cast To The Pyre (via whatever-that-hurts
(Source: rhan-tegoth, via sanguine-eidolon)
(Source: puggert, via oix)
Taken at around midnight at Flåtåvattenet, Norway.
Paul Delaroche - The Young Martyr (1855)
(Source: marcuscrassus, via birds-sing-their-requiems)