The Imaginarium of Mr. Overton

pensieri sinceri

[strle]

The Last Mirror Ball Factory in Japan

[philipsimaginarium]

One night, I decided to change my life. All for you.

[just-shower-thoughts]

At some point in your childhood, you and your friends went outside to play together for the last time and nobody knew it.

[just-shower-thoughts]

New Years Eve (2017) will be the only day when every adult was born in the 1900s, and every minor was born in the 2000s.

[philipsimaginarium]

This playlist though...

https://itunes.apple.com/us/playlist/denises-walkman-1980s-im-on/idpl.86ec253dda364ff0ba72208e19598acd

[dephus]

You either like me or you don’t. It took me twenty-something years to learn how to love myself, I don’t have that kinda time to convince somebody else.

Daniel Franzese (via ohteenscanrelate)

[tiny-facts]

I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes.

Ferdinand Von Schrubentauffrt  (via hack-zone)

[dryyoureyes-startbelieving]

People too often forget that it is your own choice how you want to spend the rest of your life.

Rachel Wolchin (via head-circus)

[rckless-dreamer]

[iamhannalashay]

Wowww I need this book

[kweendestiny]

[serious]

everything takes time don’t give up if you don’t see results instantly

[deeplifequotes]

Notice all the people who make an effort to stay in your life.

(via deeplifequotes)

[nubbsgalore]

[philipsimaginarium]

[philipsimaginarium]

[rubyrosalee]

there are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. they will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.

they are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. they won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. they’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. they won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. they’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. they won’t know you get migraines. they won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. they’ll love it because it feels real to them. they’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. tou might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.

they will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. they won’t ever consider you strong.

when the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. they’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. those things are not to be shown. be at your best so I can love you. i would love you more if only you never show me those things.

and you do not marry those people. you do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. you leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.

— unknown

[rubyrosalee]

it’s late at night as i lie in bed in the blue glow of the television set. i have the clicker in my hand, the remote control, and i go from 1 to 97, scrolling through the channels. i find nothing that warrants my attention, nothing that amuses me, so i scroll up again, channel by channel, from bottom to top. but i’ve already given it the honor of going from 1 to 97, and already i’ve found nothing. this vast, sophisticated technology and… nothing. it’s given me not one smidgen of pleasure. it’s informed me of nothing beyond my own ignorance and my own frailties. 

but then i have the audacity to go up again! and what do i find? nothing, of course. so at last, filled with loathing and self-disgust, i punch the damn tv off and throw the clicker across the room, muttering to myself, “what am i doing with my time?”

it’s not as if i’m without other resources or material comforts, you follow? i’ve been very fortunate in my life, and as i lie in my bed, i’m surrounded by beautiful things. treasured books and art objects, photographs and mementos, lovely gardens on the balcony. i have a rich network of friends, some only a few steps away, dozens of others whom i could reach on the phone within seconds. 

so what am i doing with my time?

steeped in this foul, self-critical mood i lie back and close my eyes, trying to empty my head of all thought. it’s late, time to sleep, so i determine to focus on that empty space in my consciousness and try to drift off. but images begin to come to me, infiltrating that darkness. soft, sensuous images of a time very early in my life when things were so much simpler, when my options for entertainment couldn’t be counted on a scale from 1 to 97.