Day #2 of medicine I feel something new Not quite happiness but I will get there slowly
wallacepolsom
NASA
No title available
dirt enthusiast

shark vs the universe
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩
Sade Olutola
Mike Driver
styofa doing anything
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Not today Justin
No title available
todays bird

izzy's playlists!
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Stranger Things

seen from Malaysia

seen from Belgium
seen from Canada

seen from Brazil

seen from Argentina
seen from United States

seen from South Korea

seen from Ukraine
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@off-topk
Day #2 of medicine I feel something new Not quite happiness but I will get there slowly
You kept telling me I was beautiful but now I feel so ugly
Day 2
Today was better. Seeing my friends actually makes me feel like a person. Talking about the future makes me hopeful that I’ll be happy at one point.Â
Day 1Â
I’m still sad. I don’t know why.Â
Self mutilation would be an option if I wasn't so vain.
GAIN in APPLE (2015)
My father's first regret with me was probably giving me the name of his father. From there, all I have done is leave of trail of disappointments to him.Â
What's the point in living if I'm just going to die anyway? Nothing I do will ever be beneficial or make an impact. Even if it did, in two thousand years my name will be meaningless. I am meaningless.
Picture this. Ten years from now, you’re sitting in a big house, all white picket fence and porch swings. Ten years ago you swore you’d be living in a big city with her by your side but something happened along the way and you watched as those plans disintegrated in the palms of your hands. You watch the sunrise and you watch the sunset and you wonder if she’s somewhere on the other side of the planet like she promised. “I gotta get out of here,” she said, “it doesn’t matter how I do it or where I go, I’m getting out.” Picture this. Twenty years from now, you find your first grey hair. You dutifully have that middle aged panic attack that everyone seems obliged to have and you screw up your eyes and pull it out. Your life is pretty steady now: good, calm, like you’ve finally figured things out. “I’m getting old,” you grumble. And somewhere, at the back of your mind, you wonder if she’s getting old too. Picture this. Fifty years from now your hair is like snow (if you have any, that is). Your walking stick is your new best friend and memories seem to flit in and out of your head like clouds in the sky. Most days you can’t remember what you had for breakfast or what you’ll have for tea, and some days it’s beginning to hurt to breathe. It’s on these occasions, when your chest is heavy and you have to sit down, that you remember her. You think how true it is that you don’t forget the people you loved when you were young. You may not remember yesterday’s weather but you remember the fifty year old summer breeze and complaining about her hair in your face. “I wonder if she’s happy,” you say, and people mistake it for mindless rambling. “I hope she found what she was looking for.”
S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #103  (via seulray)
[GAINstagram] It’s fall 가을이다아
GA IN for vogue magazine, august 2013.
I wonder what my life would be like if I agreed to marry you.Â
Solidarity
Iridescent whites obscure my vision O’ you who holds my fears and desires Entranced in a dance with pure precision Close but not burned by all your fierce fires Â
The deepest blacks engulf my soul and thoughts Tempting me to indulge secret pleasures To erase all that I am after shots Of lying to myself at great measures
Being alone has become more than just Time wasted or an escape from this hell It’s shown me I’m the only one to trust On the past I cannot continue to dwell
I’ve fallen in love with my time alone Don’t ask or bother, my heart’s turned to stone
jesus fucking christ all I want is to sleep or a scalding shower
February 13, 2014
   Once again I am plagued by these consuming fixations. Words storm inside of my mind, which I doubt anyone would expect given my completely stoic facial expressions. My neck hurts, my back hurts. My face is breaking out like you wouldn’t believe, because my parents decide to “cook” or buy greasy ass food that is so unhealthy. Where are the fresh vegetables? Why are there so many preservatives? Ugh. It’s repulsive. My music no longer satisfies this deep emotional hunger that I feel so often. I am trapped not only in this house but in this body, in this mind.
   Exhaustion comes so often now for no real reason. I sit in the same spot all day. Maybe it’s because my family doesn’t know how to be quiet and wakes me up every fucking morning. The nightmares I continue to have could also contribute to this. They aren’t even normal nightmares that I’ve had in the past. It’s just…nothingness. A blank nothingness that extends into eternity where only my consciousness lies. I have no body which was a relief at first. However, it grew into something awful. I severely want to escape, but where can I escape when I have no physical form and I’m trapped in an expanse of nothing? From what I can remember, it turns into me suffocating. Not suffocation from lack of air though? It’s weird. I’ll wake up at this point only to fall back asleep and face those terrors again.
   My selfishness continuous to dictate my thoughts. Every time I see someone get into a college and people congratulate them I want to fucking scream. I never was congratulated for my biggest accomplishment. I did not get to attend the school that I wanted. I’m stuck in this perpetual misery because my parents fucking suck. What’s terrible is when people tell me it will get better. It never will. I’ll always be like this. I’ll never get over this pain. It doesn’t help either that I have to hold back so much of my anger. So many of my friends attend this school that I’d feel guilty offending them. I stand by my opinion though that UCF is a fucking awful school. Out of 60,000 students, probably 1,000 actually give a shit and work hard. I can almost promise that most of the students are transfers from community colleges. How did I work so hard to get to the same spot where people that didn’t try at all are at? How does the amount of work I did equal the amount that they did? It doesn’t. I can’t change any of it now though. I’m stuck here. No schools will accept me as a transfer student because UCF doesn’t offer a respectable amount of majors. It also doesn’t help that the other schools I would be applying to are actually accredited universities that have notable alumni that aren’t in sports or entertainment. Â
   Fucking writer’s block is possibly the worst thing ever. In order to become a more mature writer, I need to channel emotions and inspirations that are not my depression and self-loathing. I feel no happiness, though. There is no joy, no wonder in my life. Even the small things have lost their power over me. The one good thing is being tainted by terrible people. My dark world is becoming darker and I have no control over it anymore. Not being able to write is terrible, but I need to start showing that I’m not the same writer I was in middle school.
   I don’t fucking know anymore. I don’t fucking know what the fuck to do. I’m so over this.
   I’m done.
J.H.