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I hate sharing the things I love cuz
1.they won't love it the way they were supposed to love it,
2.I'm the only one allowed to love it
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"there were times when the pressure to achieve happiness felt almost oppressive, as if happiness were something that everyone should and could attain, and that any sort of compromise in its pursuit was somehow your fault."
— a little life, hanya yanagihara
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And that fart or burp whatever you wanna call that deep core of yours subtly affects the trajectories of electrons in distant galaxies.
- Source unknown (me*)
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I believe in ghosts ever since I came to know that I'm just a bunch of bones in a plastic bag called 'skin' with a soul.... A Sparkly Fart of Chemical Complexity (But, Like, a Sophisticated Fart)
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When someone accidentally gets a glimpse of the real me that I keep under 2856390653 layers of wits and sarcasm 🙃
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nothing feels greater than to be loved by a writer, a painter, a poet, a singer, a photographer, an artist, a right lover. when you're loved, they keep you in their things, to remind them that loving you is a part of their life. you're a mosaic of the people you love.
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People, People, People.
Skinny ones,tall once,grumpy once,the good looking ,the brainy ,short,fuzzy balls and the guffy looking once
I'm tired. Bone-tired. Soul-snoozing-in-a-hammock-on-Mars tired. All I want is to become a particularly artistic bit of roadkill. I wanna be a Speed Bump on the Highway to Enlightenment. (I really should start looking both ways.)
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How I envision love like , "Why don't you take my love,huh? Is it becuz it's messy and cracked and flawed? It is because it has stains and dust and looks lifeless? Is it becuz it's dull and doesn't make your cheeks go rosy nor make your heat beat faster?"
It's a murder scene, btw
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So, have you ever felt half-invisible? Cause I've been trying to disappear, for a while now, and it seems like a part of me has managed to do that, as I'm currently devoid of emotions. All the pieces in that exhibition are gone, and I feel like a ghost; I'm transparent. You can move through this empty body without feeling anything, yet you are scared of the half-invisible ghost's presence looming over your life. I just wish someone could pull a white sheet over my head with a smiley face drawn on it, so I could at least pretend to be normal, and not just a shell, you know?
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Girls can be like weather forecasts—totally unpredictable! One minute, they’re having a full-on Shakespearean tragedy, mascara running down their faces like a sad clown at a carnival, yelling about how the universe is conspiring against them. The next minute? They’re grinning like they just found out pizza is a food group, munching on snacks and declaring that life is basically a Disney movie.
It’s like watching a live-action version of “The Incredible Hulk”—one moment they’re smashing everything in sight with their emotions, and the next, they’re giggling over cat videos. Honestly, if you can figure out how to navigate that emotional rollercoaster, you deserve a medal—or at least a lifetime supply of snacks!(*one of 'em*)
