“He’s gay? But he was cute! What is wrong with the boys in this world?? At this rate they are all going to end up with each other! What about us? THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD ARE GIRLS, HELLO!!”—Ina, running a slight fever.
“If for one minute you think you’re better than a sixteen year old girl in a Greenday t-shirt, you are sorely mistaken. Remember the first time you went to a show and saw your favourite band. You wore their shirt, and sang every word. You didn’t know anything about scene politics, haircuts, or what was cool. All you knew was that this music made you feel different from anyone you shared a locker with. Someone finally understood you. This is what music is about.”— Gerard Way (via gotwisdom)
168. PEELING THE LABEL OFF OF YOUR WATER BOTTLE MAY SEEM LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME, BUT YOU'LL REGRET IT. AND DON'T THINK "NAH, THIS TIME I WONT GET THAT STICKY SHIT ON MY HAND", YOU WILL, DON'T DO IT.
noun • a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start.
The word is from the Yaghan language, and its morphological structure is as follows: mam- (reflexive/passive morph.) + -ihlapi- ‘to be at a loss as to what to do next’ + -n- (stative aspect affix) + -ata- (achievement affix) + -apai (dual, here reciprocal, marker). [via snee, Wikipedia]
Dude. If I spoke Yaghan, I would need to use this word a lot. A LOT.
Do the world a favor and open your bloody eyes! Look up! I’m here *jumps up and down and waves arms* where I’ve been for a year, and always will be unless you tell me otherwise. I know you’re “damaged” but so am I and for the same basic reasons. I’m well aware that I will never completely understand what happened to you over there (the only way I can is to do the same thing and sorry but the army won’t let me, I asked.) but I’ve been on the other side and I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to understand yours. If I can’t understand then I’ll sit next you and hand you booze and watch cheesy zombie movies until you can deal again.
He walked out of the coffee shop, saying good-bye to his friends inside. He pulled his gray pea hoodie on, on top of his loose white t-shirt, his slate-colored jeans. He picked a piece of paper off of his leather brogues, and retied his shoelace. It felt weird, so he retied the other one, too.
His girlfriend took his hand in hers, her mustard yellow jacket brushing against him. Underneath it, she wore a gray wool dress, over flowered tights and Doc Martens.
When butter is all cold and in its wrapper, with the rounded edges, I have to squeeze it. I can’t help it. I think it’s why Mom never sends me to get the butter in the supermarket, because she noticed it coming back all smooshed.
I know I’m going to regret not sleeping enough when I go to the center later, and start looking for the coffee. There is no coffee there on Saturdays. I am going to be all groggy while listening to my dad speak, and then I will not even know if he is embarassing me. In front of the entire youth service.
I’m going to regret it when I start giving incoherent answers to my friends, and when I walk into a wall. It always happens.
Oh no my mom’s alarm is ringing.
And there are birds. Singing.
I’m in trouble.
“The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it’s as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.”—Hector, The History Boys (via reinventthesea) (via ysabel)