#reypila #plazacondesa #thelostartofcrashingcars ✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️
I have lived on the lip of insanity,
wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door.
I’ve been knocking from the inside.
its a sound that takes me four years back to my rooftop where there are things happening all around me but all i feel is absolute stillness i cant hear a word and the lights are blurry as hell and im just sitting there not thinking about anything in particular kinda just being there. on my own. then it takes me forward a couple of months and im not home anymore im as far as i could get from it and i mean that in every sense of the word. im kinda lost still, cant hear a thing and theres people around but this time the light isnt blurry anymore the light isnt blurry at all its probably sometime around midafternoon and my skin is burning but other than that i cant feel much i don’t feel anything and this is something i noticed just recently. the sound stops being a sound and becomes something else maybe a voice. and it takes me forward again but this time im not alone we are surronded by water freezing cold water freezing cold wind. and fog. i dont remember ever seeing this much fog. i felt genuinely grateful i guess and i started feeling things and thats when things got out of hand because id never /felt/ numbness before and whatever it is it doesnt feel like such it feels like everything and anything at once, the thing about /feeling/ it though (this pseudonumbness) is that it comes in waves sometimes stronger than others sometimes it wants to make its presence felt like all hell and sometimes not and then again and again. this voice stops being a voice. whatever it is it holds me in place where im supposed to be but more importantly where i want to be and where ive been wanting to be my whole damn life.
oh my god
everyone needs to see this video at least once in their life
Anonymous asked: It's on days like these you find out there's a math fandom...
And they are annoying as hell
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be lonely.
Independence Square (Maidan) in Kiev, Ukraine.
In April 2009, left, when a Ukrainian student group formed a smiley face, and on Thursday (Feb. 20, 2014), as protesters inspected damage from recent clashes with government forces. Via
It’s 932am. Broad daylight. My mind is somewhere else. Late night bus ride. Two minute conversation. I’ve made promises before. I’ve promised a few hours. And a whole evening. I’ve promised an entire lifetime. We may have not kept these promises. But I still appreciate the fact that for a second you thought about spending time with me. I like that you were willing to keep them, even if you didn’t. And now I am making plans again; these long-term plans that make me feel happy about the future, about my future. Without you.
Saturday, February 1
This song has reminded me of you ever since you played it for me, we were sitting on the floor of my room, drunk and high at six in the morning, you were speaking to me, speaking with that stupid smile of yours and that voice, your whole mannerism, I think at one point you actually stood up and started moving your arms and eyes and head all over the place, with that kind of passion I saw in you way before tonight, I saw it your hands, and your eyes// I was looking at you, listening but not really, smiling as well, barefoot, freezing, my dress up to my hips, hair soaking wet// the whole thing was just crazy, you kept telling me that you’d never done this before, I kept telling you me either, and this song was still playing on the background, somehow making the moment endless.
Sitting in my bathroom floor feeling physically and emotionally ill. It never lasts, does it?
History controls everything we do, so there is no point in observing individual actions. Let’s examine the individual actions of over 500 characters at great length.
The little girl’s sense of secrecy that developed at prepuberty only grows in importance. She closes herself up in fierce solitude: she refuses to reveal to those around her the hidden self that she considers to be her real self and that is in fact an imaginary character: she plays at being a dancer like Tolstoy’s Natasha, or a saint like Marie Leneru, or simply the singular wonder that is herself. There is still an enormous difference between this heroine and the objective face that her parents and friends recognise in her. She is also convinced that she is misunderstood: her relationship with herself becomes even more passionate: she becomes intoxicated with her isolation, feels different, superior, exceptional: she promises that the future will take revenge on the mediocrity of her present life. From this narrow and petty existence she escapes by dreams.