My life via the internet. Kind of.

I'm Pete. I make music.
The Music: soundcloud.com/peteisssb
The Person: facebook.com/PeterJBrail

I met her a long time ago in Portland when we were playing a show. It was just a brief encounter, I gave her a sticker and we were talking a little bit. I thought she was like, Nancy Spungen or something. She just looked like a classic punk rock chick, you know? I didn’t feel attracted to her, probably wanted to fuck her that night but she left. I just wanted to add some excitement in my life and I had never met anyone so outspoken and charismatic, and it just seemed like she was a magnet for exciting things to happen. I felt like a rebel in a way because I was going off of Courtney and we were scoring drugs, and fucking up against a wall outside and stuff like that, you know? And causing scenes just to do it; just because everyone is just sitting at this table eating food and not having any fun. It was great to just play this role with someone who would stand up all of a sudden and smash a glass on the table and scream at me and throw me down, you know? It was just really fun.

—Kurt Cobain on Courtney Love (via maiczi)

(via beyonddtheuniverse)

Does anyone else lie in bed at 2:30am filled with the crippling fear that they’re never going to accomplish anything in life and fail miserably or is that just me

(via legionofcrosses)

Depression does not always mean
Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists
A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity
Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

Sometimes depression means
Not getting out of bed for three days
Because your feet refuse to believe
That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

Sometimes depression means
That summoning the willpower
To go downstairs and do the laundry
Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

Sometimes depression means
Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours
Because you cannot convince your body
That it is capable of movement

Sometimes depression means
Not being able to write for weeks
Because the only words you have to offer the world
Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

Sometimes depression means
That every single bone in your body aches
But you have to keep going through the motions
Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

Sometimes depression means
Ignoring every phone call for an entire month
Because yes, they have the right number
But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore

—Hannah Nicole (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: capellinis, via legionofcrosses)

may something
comfort you—a mockingbird, a breeze, rain
on the roof, Chopin’s Nocturnes, a kiss,
or even me—in my chilly kitchen
with my coat on—thinking of you.

—Ellen Bass, from Insomnia (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via ninety-nines)

Confession

I have made so few lasting connections with other people in my lifetime, I have put far too much effort into doomed things, and I constantly strive for a passionate disaster of an interaction with every person I get close to. As a result, those friendships/relationships burn SO bright that they’re practically blinding (and for that same reason they turn into ash before “forever”). I live in constant fear that I’ll grow old entirely alone.

Though, I will admit, many of the aforementioned relationships have fallen apart because of me. But that’s a different subject for a different time.

I don’t suppose there’s a particular point to this post. Sorry if it bored you.