So fucking excited for this.
never love a wild thing
for vagabonds who indulge in behaviors that cut ten years off their lifespans and add ten paragraphs to their life stories.
THE SUN WAS SPILLING KEROSENE...
20 year old UC Berkeley computer science nerd.
I like: western high fashion and Asian street fashion; electronic beats and sentimental lyrics; bonfires and coffee shops; Mean Girls and Harry Potter references; jutting hipbones and too-bright eyes; boys with acoustic guitars.
I like: things that are beautiful and broken; pretty words that don't make sense; nostalgia for what never existed; things that can't be defined; songs that sound better in the dark; believing too much in the endless possibilities.
ask me anything
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we'll never get used to it.
{Love is the movment.}
THE SUN WAS SPILLING KEROSENE...
20 year old UC Berkeley computer science nerd.
I like: western high fashion and Asian street fashion; electronic beats and sentimental lyrics; bonfires and coffee shops; Mean Girls and Harry Potter references; jutting hipbones and too-bright eyes; boys with acoustic guitars.
I like: things that are beautiful and broken; pretty words that don't make sense; nostalgia for what never existed; things that can't be defined; songs that sound better in the dark; believing too much in the endless possibilities.
ask me anything
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we'll never get used to it.
{Love is the movment.}
Apr 04
Apr 03
(Source: manduu)
Apr 02
THE LIVING ROOM NEEDS A NEW COAT OF PAINT
When I asked for it, you built a sturdy table for our kitchen,
even though it was summer and it was hot and you had to
work outside with the mosquitos. You sanded down all
the sharp edges, stained its thick legs. You tuned each
ivory tooth of that old piano we found on the side of
the road and dragged as heavy as a dead animal into
our dining room. You tightened the fan above our
bed—the one that used to wobble, seasick, like
a drunk. You unclogged the shower drain,
fished out a month of my hair. You are
always fixing things. But what is this,
my love? A crack in the ceiling.
A faulty pilot light. A keyhole in
your sternum that opens to
an ocean of doubt. I stared
into your chest last night
as if it was a telescope.
I saw our future in the
distance, an island
both of us would
rather drown
than swim to:
you cannot
fix what
wants
to be
brok
en.- Sierra DeMulder
you never really
know someone
until you’ve read
what they write
at 3 am when
loneliness
consumes them
but does not
destroy them
Mar 31
Winter is coming
(Source: dylanobrienbabe)
(Source: classicmonster)
“ Isn’t it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idealize them as gods or dismiss them as animals.
— John Green - Paper Towns
Mar 30
