If I say “the hand flex scene” and you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m not sure we can be friends.
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If I say “the hand flex scene” and you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m not sure we can be friends.
This is a post specifically dedicated to the sensitive souls out there who drink and party even though their hearts are too tender for flings.
A knock on my window.
I fumble free from my covers.
“Who is it?”
It’s him.
I live inside a Shakespeare play.
Waiting to find out if it’s a tragedy or a comedy.
I don’t care about your zodiac sign. What I really want to know is if you stop the microwave right before it beeps or if you make the sounds along with it.
“You know how scared I am of elevators
Never trusted it
If it rises fast, it can't last”
Taylor swift, Labyrinth
Fuck getting straight A’s.
Fuck losing those extra pounds.
Fuck living for everyone else.
Life is too short.
Andrew Garfield is a blessing to planet earth.
That’s it. That’s the post.
I could watch this forever
I am quiet. I am loud.
I am scared of the dark. I am in love with the moon.
I am intelligent. I am a fool.
I am noteworthy. I am a nobody.
It’s as Walt Whitman wrote: “…I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.”
The word passion comes from the Latin “pati”, which means suffering. That has always made sense to me. A truth that I, for the record, resent.
And if no one tells me they love me most ardently, and if no one says I have bewitched them body and soul, and if no one desires to bottle my laughter and get drunk on it every night, then I shall say it to myself, and I will bottle my own laughter… I refuse to let a man determine whether or not I get a happy ending.
The fact that the very authors who gave me high standards in men are married themselves honestly gives me hope.
Can it really be true that Sarah J. Maas, Laini Taylor, Holly Black, Tahereh Mafi and Becky Albertalli are all married?!?!
I really hate horror films...
But I’ll watch Crimson Peak a thousand times for that scene.
“Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.”
Isn’t it weird how metaphors just make sense? Like how do we even understand them? And why the hell did this one make me cry?
(Quote from Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo)
let's take a stroll. let's go to that hidden café where we first met. i will hold your hand. let's get lost in the smell of coffee, and do it all again.
I feel like I (in real life) have become the human equivalent of a fan-page for Tom Hiddleston.