totally underwater @heroin-e-blog-blog - Tumblr Blog

theproofoflife-deactivated20140

heroin-e-blog-blog

Oh, Sweden.

lotusunfurled

A Group of Novice Monks Taking Time-Out from Chores and Study Keng Tong Shan State Myanmar Burma by eriagn on Flickr.

thewritersramblings

Spirited Away: animation → reality

please do not remove cosplayer sources

how do i do this friend thing. how do i make friends and keep them, how do i make connections with people. when you're a traveller do you keep the friends you make or do you forever remain the-traveller-who-met-them, the traveller-friend, not the friend-friend. maybe this is just loneliness speaking. i'm not a kid anymore and i can't just make friends at the drop of a hat. i'm still a kid, adulthood is looming and i don't know what to do. how do i figure out life? jobs? everything? human relationships?

it's hard to make friends here beyond the level of casual and just-a-bit-more-than-casual. hard to stay friends. or is it just me? if i bare a bit of my soul will there be someone here, eventually, who will find me and get it? and will i also get them? maybe i'm hoping for the wrong things. maybe, maybe time is just getting to me. 4 months left here, and i'm desperate to finish this knowing i found people and they found me and stayed, beyond momentary encounters. i don't know what i'm saying.

last night i cried, and cried and cried and coughed up bloody phlegm. turns out it's bronchitis. but i was crying because i was thinking about the prospect of dying, which almost never fails to bring on the waterworks. not so much about the dying itself but part of me is convinced that no one (besides my family, i mean) will care if i die. it's an irrational, stupid notion but there you have it. the idea that no one will cry for me, will care enough to cry. you know how they say posthumously of people sometimes, don't cry, they wouldn't have wanted you to cry. i dunno, i'd like to think someone cared enough to. just a bit.

but the crying thing, maybe, is just another way of saying that i want to be remembered, i want to be loved and i don't want to be lonely. and i'm scared that i'll die without ever having been significant to other people.

god this is so irrational. and yet. and yet. here i am crying again over such wretched thoughts.

fyeahprettyboys

黒バスログまとめ by みすず

iamjapanese

FUTAGAWA Yukio（二川幸夫 Japanese, 1932-2013）

Rural Houses of Japan 日本の民家　1955

Acclaimed Japanese architectural photographer and founder of Global Architecture (GA) magazine Yukio Futagawa died on March 5, 2013, at the age of 80.

Futagawa spent his 60-year career as a photographer, editor, and publisher, depicting and interpreting the architecture and culture of Japan, as well as the architecture of leading designers from other countries. He worked with many renowned architects and historians, including Christian Norberg-Schultz, Philip Johnson, and Kenneth Frampton. via

spicytaco

heroin-e-blog-blog

GPOM so hard

#Kurumaisu de Boku wa Sora o Tobu

noonaneomuhomo

You said you tried to surprise me when you called out my name and realized I couldn’t hear you since I had my headphones in, but I saw the shadow of your bike on the ground before you could sneak up on me. At first I thought you were someone else, and the moment I saw your...

humortrain

edwardspoonhands

Not Iambic….Do Not Accept…

reading-thoughts

These tags I’ll pop, and boast in rhyming verse that what I wear puts swagger in my gait; though twenty shillings have I in my purse, my self-esteem and manhood both inflate when lofty furs I purchase for a cent. Thy grandpa’s clothes are worthy salvage, though they smell a trifle musty. Still, I spent much less to dress myself from head to toe.

To save or not to save? The question’s moot. I’ll never give my coin to high-street crooks. These dusty shelves will yield their hidden loot to those, like me, more frugal in their looks. Like ancient coins washed up on distant shores, I’ll find my treasures in these thrifty stores. - Macklemore, “Thrift Shoppe”

edwardspoonhands

THERE WE GO!

likeafieldmouse-deactivated2015

art-history

Cy Twombly Untitled 2001 Acrylic, wax crayon, pencil, and collage 48.75 x 39 in Collection of the artist

ombrophobia

So awkward.

I walked past a cemetery when I was walking home and like… I’m alive so… yea.

jesusduggar

It was so awkward when I was walking home because I walked past a nursing home and like….I’m not old so….yea

abhortion-deactivated20131214

It was so awkward when I was walking home because I walked past a river and like….I’m not a fish so….yea

demisnowflake-deactivated201408

It was so awkward when I was walking home because I walked past a car dealership and like….I’m not an automobile so….yea

katherinearandez

It was so awkward when I was walking home because I was walking over the sewer the whole time and like….I’m not a piece of shit….yea

hoejhael

hexingkyriachy-deactivated20200

Domme life.

daenerystargaryen

heroin-e-blog-blog

There’s a hint of Golightly bubbling up in her. She has a vampy tendency to refer to things as “fabulous” and people as “dahhhling.” Upon appraising a selection of challenging shoes for our photo shoot that day, she remarks blithely, “Me and heels are very good friends.” Later, she adds, “I’m always the person that’s just slightly overdressed,” before breaking into laughter. “Hopefully in a good way!” — Emilia Clarke for OUT Magazine

mintchoc-chip

“They said, ‘Well, that’s foolish. You’ll never work, you’re not pretty enough, you’re not good enough,’ and I said, ‘You’re fired.’ Then my business manager said the same thing and I said, ‘You’re fired.’ I just fired everybody. Then I left my husband. You know, I was like, ‘Out, all of you.’ I couldn’t afford to have those voices near me that said, ‘You can’t do this, you’re not good enough,’ because I have too many voices inside of me that say that.”

Sally Field (via mintchoc-chip)