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naturepunk:

WELP

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thecheshireone:

maguszeal:

for-the-other-shoe:

hobbitkaiju:

vrabia:

I lost it at The Backstreet Boys

why have I never heard of this person before

WHY DOESN’T THIS HAVE MORE NOTES

OMFG!

Enya made me spit my drink.

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The little girl’s sense of secrecy that developed at prepuberty only grows in importance. She closes herself up in fierce solitude: she refuses to reveal to those around her the hidden self that she considers to be her real self and that is in fact an imaginary character: she plays at being a dancer like Tolstoy’s Natasha, or a saint like Marie Leneru, or simply the singular wonder that is herself. There is still an enormous difference between this heroine and the objective face that her parents and friends recognise in her. She is also convinced that she is misunderstood: her relationship with herself becomes even more passionate: she becomes intoxicated with her isolation, feels different, superior, exceptional: she promises that the future will take revenge on the mediocrity of her present life. From this narrow and petty existence she escapes by dreams. 
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Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex, Vol II Chapter II: “The Girl

(via pillowstars)

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from margo roth spiegelman, with hope

thetealeafdragon:

          i.
we dance on the edge
of a knife, every morning laden
with astriferous dreams, backs bowed
with the hopes we carry in perpetuum
not knowing what other motes to breathe.

this is us, we are
the incarnation of black against white,
stark contrasts that breathe and bleed
for their otherness.

     ii.
do as if i took to the sea
and set my sails for far-off harbors.
i am not odysseus, no wife and child
wait for me, i am unfettered, i am
unloved, except for a boy who misconstrues
the the very shape of my breastbone. 

do not follow me. do not follow me.
do not follow me. you wouldn’t
follow anyway.

i am telling you not to love me,
the thought of me, the paper girl
painted in gaudy colors.

          iii.
i cut my losses, i would cut
the cords of my heart if i thought
some anchor held me
to uncertain waters.

i am no citizen of empty dreams,
zanarkand fades at the first touch of light,
and i will not inhabit a glorious lie
even if affection should lie on the line.

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loudst:

arspooktzka:

i don’t trust asexuals because their brains are not distracted by the matters of the flesh.

where is all that brain power going.

i bet it’s going to the overmind, where they are gathering strength to consolidate their hold over the world

image

you know too much.

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yurameshi:

I’m ceasing

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fer1972:

Sculptures by Wang Ruilin 

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     +   art

existentialismandmakeup:

miikachu:

onlylolgifs:

High Five New York

See? Now this is a prank. Something silly and good intentioned and actually funny. Not groping poor, unsuspecting girls.

steampunktendencies:

Flying dutchman by Alex Painter

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Rᴀᴄᴇ & Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ Tᴀʀᴏᴛ Cᴀʀᴅs ғʀᴏᴍ DA:I

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