I'm a systematically disappointing spin-off of the best friend you'll ever have and the worst enemy you'll ever make. I hate the third month of the year, I love Betty White, I fear old age, I'm a decent writer, an okay pianist, a terrible jack-in-the-box of puns and tear jerking one liners, and I can't dance.
I make every error of human reasoning, I don't break promises, I'm not a solipsist, I can't waste time, I'm a hypocrite, & a flirtatious cornucopia of cliche causes and ironic effects. My heart and my head are the same like in shrimp, and I'm begging just begging to get my heart broken by the next Byronic hero that walks by.
Give me a polar bear, and I'll give you my soul-which is nothing but a blissful reminder of why you miss childhood, and a spinning vortex of stinging insecurities and paralyzing self-doubt.
Adele - Track by Track Interview
Adele explains all the history about her tracks in the album 21
So I just totally finished off a box of Cheese-Its.
If I vomit though, I’m telling you, NEVER AGAIN.
Hi, so you probably have just scrolled through pages and pages of girls with tans and cute shoes. But I bet you won’t reblog this picture of my sim, Rae, who has been trapped in a bathroom stall for 12 hours because this girl won’t move. She hasn’t eaten & is socially deprived to the point where she has been having tantrums. I admire her strength & bravery <3 Rebagel if u have a heart.
This won’t ruin your blog.
omg i just died
I can’t stop laughing asdfiojskd
omg
this is something i believe in. holy shit.
(via thatkidsgotmoxie)
Secretly, I just don’t want to be in school anymore so I can live in a one bedroom with my boyfriend and we can whisper “I love you” to each other every moment we’re not at work, and I can play him the ukelele and he’ll appreciate it because in a fantasy world he appreciates that kind of stuff.
And we’ll watch cartoons and he’ll feed me Cheese-Its and I’ll enjoy them because I’ll have finally learned to forgive the past.
And we’ll have a king sized bed, and I’ll learn the cello, and he’ll work nights and come back freezing with a red nose. And I’ll tell him he’s keeping me from my dreams, and he’ll tell me to leave him, and I’ll cry and resist texting other guys while he mopes around with his shitty little pout face.
And he’ll leave the shower curtain open and put the toilet paper on backwards, and I’ll play the music too loud, and never cook dinner.
I’ll try to fight back the urge to smoke hookah while he dreams of tattoos he can never have while he’s with me. And he loves me because he doesn’t understand me. And I love him because he loves me and that’s good enough, right?
And I’ll feel like we’re only in this now because we’ve signed a lease, and I’ll pretend I’m trapped in a 1940’s movie about real love, waiting for James Stewart to come save me. When the lease is up, we’ll sign it again because we don’t want to admit that losing the king sized bed will be a complete and total loss when really it’s the fact that neither of us wants to sleep in it alone, like being on a canoe in the ocean. And I’ll never know if I truly do love him or if it’s just something that just feels right when you say it, like when you adopt a puppy or pick out a Christmas tree.
He’ll want to adopt a puppy. But I’m not a dog person.
Maybe I’ll get bored of being thornless or he’ll get sick of the way I settle like dust on a mantle that holds cheap candles that we never light and pictures of us that I forced him to take.
And then one day he’ll break my heart and it will be the best feeling in the world because it’ll prove once and for all that I actually have one.
Secretly.
I’ve learned my lesson I swear it’ll never happen again I promise now just…now just go away, ok? cool thank you
lemme know if there’s anything I can do…solve world peace, fight aids, stop harrassing others, you just let me know.
-your best till just now,
J. Kamel
The greatest intensity in a relationship is through opening up and letting go. It’s activity. Not passivity.
You want to be the one that forces them to open up…to get through those boundaries. That’s something in you that makes you want to feel special.
Whoever likes the other person less, is the one who has the power. And it is a game. It’s not a game like a hobby, but it’s a game because it means something more, you’re working towards an objective, and you’re playing with someone else to get there.
Isn’t there a certain sense in the catch 22 of love part of the experience?
When youre at the verge of falling & you want them to fall in love with you, do you want them to fall in love in a way where once they fall, they are stuck in love, or do you want them to feel overwhelemed as if they had no choice? You want them to be overwhelmed through their own free agency.
Love means wanting someone to willingly enslave themselves to the powerful, overwhelming feeling of that love. And we expect that as the obligation. YOu want to take possession of their subjectivity, not by force, but by their own act of giving it to you. That’s pretty fucked up. But that’s what we want. We want people to freely obligate themselves to us as apart of love. Not accidental, arbitrary, or easily dismissed.
Our descriptions of love sound like a disease.
You notice how there could be a wide open field, and you manage to step in the ONE pile of dog shit that’s in the field.
We often think that love, when we feel it, is enough. It’s not. And the field of human relationships far exceeds how we might interact with people at times, but sometimes, no matter how much is there, it’s not enough for the relationship to continue.
John Stamos…he just keeps going. He’s like Chuck Norris.
Dont you think the ease with which we dismiss Freud is a pathology to how right he is.
If you’ve hit the point of VERBAL communication, maybe you’re not paying attention.
2 experiments: 1. Make a LOT more eye contact than you do with everyone & watch what happens.
2. If you’re talking 1 on 1 with somebody, subtly mimc their body movements.
Those who love best, don’t need love.
Chuck Klosterman has mommy issues.
My professor throws the book down on the floor.
“THAT BOOK DOES NOT OWN ME.”
A minute goes by.
“Okay, I’m gonna pick it up now. …BUT THAT’S MY CHOICE.”