November 2011
I really really reaaaaaallllllllllly can’t stand ignorant people.
I don’t want to be friends with any of them. Fuck off.
I just realised how annoying some people are. Some people just simply can’t keep their mouth shut. Honestly. They need to say their every single fucking opinion and give too much shit about other people’s live.
Don’t give me your pathetic judgement and in fucking quotations you stupid bitch. You can go and get fucked, thank you very much. I don’t need your shit. So glad...
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She can paint a lovely picture but this picture has a twist. Her paintbrush is a razor and her canvas is her wrist. She paints her pretty picture in a color that’s blood red. While using her sharp paintbrush, she ends up finally dead. Her pretty pictures fading quite slowly on her arm. The blood is not racing through her. She can no longer do harm. She painted her pretty picture but her picture...
mols:
I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and saw them crying in their bed at night or singing in the shower or humming quietly to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street. And even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think, after...
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The Paradox of Our Age
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less...
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The First Heartbreak
You stare at the chat window. It is white on white on white — oblivion’s vanishing point — this contemporary art piece. You can walk by or be kicked out by the guards for vagrancy. You are staying too long. Before: her sparseyeahs and okays accented with periods (always with periods, you notice) occasionally garnished with a colon and parenthesis, backslash. This is all so meager; she’s not giving...
Formspring! Hit me up! :) →
lucifersgirlfriend:
“You’re a rebel. Whether you like it or not, you are. Look at you. You’re full of smart remarks just ready to attack. You’re a bomb ready to explode. You’re smart. You’re sarcastic. You’re a flirt. You love to intimidate people and sit back and watch their reactions. You mind fuck everyone who comes across you. You are the most rebellious person I know. But you’re not dumb...
"I'm sorry."
yanrwtb:
Eventually, she’ll become immune to your apologies, even if they’re satiated with sincerity. Because one could only stomach so much disappointment from high hopes that come plummeting down before the disappointment becomes expectation. And your apologies will eventually transform into words that are said only in attempts to make things right. Eventually, I’m sorry won’t be good enough...
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3 Fashion Trends That Someone Needs To Explain To...
1. Chicks shaving a little patch onto one side of their head and growing the rest long. Can we all finally, as a society, accept the fact that just because something looks good on Rihanna does not mean that it will look good on every random girl who ever worked at an Intermix? Rihanna could essentially smear herself with Elmer’s glue and roll around in Froot Loops and 20-something white chicks...
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on writer's block
1112pm:
Sometimes the words don’t come and then the chills come knocking around my worn out wrists and my weary fingers, they shake for me like addicts of a writer’s nicotine because I get afraid that the words just won’t come
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My mum carried me in her womb for nine months. She felt sick for months with nausea, then she watched her feet swell & her skin stretch & tear; she struggled to climb stairs, she got breathless quick; she suffered many sleepless nights. She then went through excruciating pain to bring me into this world. Then, she became my nurse, my chef, my maid, my chauffeur, my biggest fan, my teacher,...
To be honest. At this stage I just couldn’t care less.
The word friend is merely a word to me.
I’m honestly just not bothered to fix this.
“Years from now, when we’re married with kids and have nothing to do, one night...”
– (via stevenrosas)
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boy-youhadmeathello-deactivated asked: I love your blog so much. If you ever change your URL pleease tell me, I don't want to lose you!
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Why aren’t you letting me in? I’m trying. Trying my fucking hardest. I’m trying to be the best friend who used to be there for you. Who you would always tell everything to. I’m trying to be the same old fucking best friend who calls you up every night asking you how your day went. But why don’t you fucking let me in? What the fuck happened? You apologised for not...
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Feelings We Need Words For
English is so bad at describing what it means to grieve. We use words like bereft or bitter or sad, or we say we have a broken heart. But none of these really get at the nuances. The words don’t seem to capture each exquisitely painful feeling.
For example, there should be a word, maybe borrowed from German, a language so good at expressing complicated mental states in a single lengthy word with...
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History means insecurity.
Don’t turn around because I won’t be there. It’s hard for me to catch someone who has let me fall. The seasons changed, your reasons changed. Did you ever really care at all?
The city of love.
