(Source: 21cuckooclocks, via illfloataway)
magenta magic
because magenta is a pretty freaking awesome color
I really hate…..
When I have the work bathroom all to myself and I’m all set to take a poop…..and then somebody walks in.
One of the biggest disappointments of my day.
Can I get an amen?
(Source: samljackson)
I don’t like being clumsy. I don’t like that I’m forgetful, and “blonde”, and that I stutter over my words. I don’t like being messy or showing up late to everything. I don’t like that I get nervous around people I don’t know. Or that I can’t “make myself at home” just because you told me to. I don’t like being so unsure and indecisive about everything.
So stop acting annoyed because I can guarantee it bothers me a hell of a lot more than it bothers you.
So many people enter and leave your life, hundreds of thousands of people. You have to keep the door open so they can come in, but it also means you have to let them go.
The only thing worse than having a spider in your room:
LOSING THE SPIDER IN YOUR ROOM.
(Source: takingpicturesinmymind)
time.
It’s weird how many selves a person can have, when really we’re just one self. My current self doesn’t really care about my future self (otherwise I wouldn’t be drinking this soda), my past self haunts my current self, and my future self just wants to make my past self happy. But at the same time, my current self is my past self and my future self all at once. How does that even make sense?
Time is bizarre. It’s the most fundamental and incomprehensible thing we have to deal with. Why is it so hard to wrap our minds around something so simple?
Time is annoying. There’s too much of it and not enough of it.
The self who wrote those first sentences is now my past self, and my future self will write even more…
But when you read this, it will all have been written by my past self.
Now tell me that’s not crazy.
If I’d been someone else in a different world I’d’ve done something different, but I was myself, and the world was the world, so I was silent
the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world…it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.
