By Gaby Dunn.
And now we’re apart and you’re just some stranger who knows all my secrets and all my family members and all my quirks and flaws and it doesn’t make sense.
By Pablo Neruda.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
By Harvey Milk.
Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.
You just ruined everything.
Mar 11 Reblogged
My name is Sereena.
I am 18 years young, but I’m actually about 21 or 22 years old in my head so I avoid telling people how old I am until I have to. I’m East Indian, so not the Native American kind. I used to be proficient in Bollywood and bellydancing, but I haven’t danced in over five months. I’m not as fit as I used to be, but I think I’m still as attractive, if not more. I’m not creative, not funny, not always easy to be around. Instead, I’m detail-oriented, good at delegation, and sociable. I acknowledge that some people are only pretending to be my friend just in case they have the chance to have sex with me later on, but now I’m not sure who is really my friend and who is just using me. I have now been single for nearly three months total since the start of my eighth grade year, and I’m not used to it. I have spells of being stuck-up, but most of the time I’m thankful to have any friends here. I’m allergic to dairy, nuts, sesame seeds, peanuts, melons, and apples. I enjoy being both bro and srat, but I acknowledge that I can’t always be either of those. I work for my school’s programming board, I’m in a sorority, I’m part of my school’s honors college, I’m on various committees across campus, and a fair amount of people know my name. I laugh at everything, I don’t drink often, but when I do I’m a really happy drunk and most people enjoy my company. I find it hard to be alone. I like poetry from e.e. cummings and I like stories by John Green where the protagonist is just whiny enough for me to be annoyed but then something happens and I can’t put the book down. I sing, all the time, and people tell me I’m a great singer, although I know I’m not as good as I could be. I forgive everybody, and it’s terribly inconvenient. I’m pretty sure someone could kill me and I’d apologize for them feeling guilty later. I don’t fuck up often, but when I do it’s in the most royal of ways. I empathize with everyone and everything and although many people say it’s admirable I just wish I didn’t care so much, because I literally care about strangers and people I dislike and if my future worst enemy told me they were sad, I would run over and hug them and ask them if they needed anything because I can’t help it. I wish I was more Indian, because then I think my parents would like me more and I might like brown people more. I try and compliment everybody on how they look as well as their personality. I have gotten legitimately by definition angry with someone only twice the entire time I’ve been at UT Dallas, the rest of the time people assume I’m angry but I’m really just upset or frustrated. I’m always angry at myself though, because there’s always someone prettier, smarter, and more social than I am, and if I wasn’t so lazy maybe I could be better. I eat a lot of carbs, but I don’t mind. My favorite color is purple, and I hate the smell of butter. I want more than I can have, and sometimes lose my ability to speak because I have too many thoughts going through my head to say anything coherently.
I know who I am. I know that sometimes I make bad choices and I know that I’m not perfect and I know that I could be ten times better if I tried. But this is who I am, and I can’t change it as much as I want to. But I work hard, and sometimes I can change a little if I really try. However, I’m still me. My name is Sereena, and nine times out of ten I love myself. Today is just not one of those days.
You’re gonna miss me by my hair, you’re going to miss me everywhere. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.
The slow version of Wicked Games by The Weeknd
oh my god.
Jan 07 Reblogged
Dec 28 Reblogged
Dec 09 Reblogged
Paige Bradley created one of the most striking sculptures I’ve seen in recent times. Her masterpiece, entitled Expansion, is a beautiful woman seeking inner piece but fractured and bleeding with light. “From the moment we are born, the world tends to have a container already built for us to fit inside: a social security number, a gender, a race, a profession,” says Bradley. “I ponder if we are more defined by the container we are in than what we are inside. Would we recognize ourselves if we could expand beyond our bodies?”