where-is-my-comb:

Raven’s dad was a hardcore sass-master.

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The year both my friends went abroad I moved into my first apartment and it was my last year of college. I had long since stopped having high or hopeful expectations. It took me 15 minutes to walk to class, 13 if I knew I was going to be late. But I always left 20 minutes before. Old habits. I passed the time by bringing a book with me. By the end of the second week, I no longer felt self-conscious.

I spent a lot of time in my own head. Sometimes too much. By the end of the first month, I knew my thoughts would be the death of me, so I started volunteering at a non-profit literary magazine. It was four metro stops away, or about eleven minutes. Naturally I brought a book. I tried to kill the idea—the hope—that someone, somewhere would see me and ask what I was reading. I tried to not care.

At the office, I tried to be nice to people and act interested. I tried to be, in my mother’s words, “personable.” I tried to ask them questions. That’s important. I always walked out of the office alone, but at least I asked them questions.

It wasn’t long before I started doing homework at Barnes & Noble instead of my apartment. I hoped this would kill some of my loneliness. Some days it was enough. Others it only seemed to intensify the echo chamber in my head. On Tuesdays, I bought coffee from the girl who worked there. I didn’t even drink coffee, but I bought it anyway. The $3 and change were worth every penny, and those few minutes were the best of my day.

I never talked to her though. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be bothered.

I tried to do something twice a month in the city that wasn’t school or work-related. Usually I’d see movies and try to forget the fact I was alone. When the lights dimmed, it was the first time that week I didn’t have to hold my breath.

The one thing I mastered was the art of distraction. I went to an exhibition on Degas, saw a Shakespeare play put on by a school club, read books, and watched a lot of Netflix. I figured the more I filled my time, the less time I’d have to think.

That was the year I stopped texting people who never texted back and the number of recent messages on my phone fell back to being counted on one hand. I forced myself to raise my hand once per class. I didn’t always succeed, but I made up for it by sitting in front and nodding my head when the professor looked at me. More nights at Barnes & Noble. More poetry. I tried not to feel so inadequate, like an apology. But I didn’t even know who I’d be apologizing to.

I told myself this would be the year I stopped caring about what others thought of me. I stopped caring that I ate alone or did things alone. I found this immensely liberating. I stopped thinking anyone would, or could, or should fill whatever hole was inside me. I stopped waiting for a first kiss or hand-holding and learned to hold my own damn hand. People spend their whole lives looking for fingers that fit in the spaces between their own. I found mine on my left hand.

But my progress fell apart daily. Every time I saw a couple admiring Van Gogh or browsing the fiction section of a bookstore I would return to the gnawing loneliness inside me. And I started wanting someone to hold my hand again. And I started texting people even though they never texted back.

"

allonsyforever:

"WHAT TEAM?!” I shout out the window into the night.

Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Zac Efron wakes from a restless sleep, sitting bolt upright “WILDCATS”

surmounts:

You never realize how boring your life is until someone asks what you do for fun.

mariowiki:

The Newcomers in Smash Bros look so good

unpresentable:

when you want to transfer your photos from your phone to laptop and you see all the selfies you made….

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snh-snh-snh:

I keep thinking oh man, I’m so immature. How am I allowed to be an adult.

Then I spend time with teenagers.

And it’s like, wow, okay, yeah. I am an adult. I am so adult. Look at me adulting all over the place.

magicul:

do you ever get really motivated to do something and you get really excited about it and then when you get home you’re just like nah

"Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings."
- Robert Bloch (via observando)
"My problem is that I think too much. I overthink everything that crosses my path, everything that has crossed my path and everything that might cross my path in the future. I overthink yesterday, today and tomorrow. It’s a habit that is slowly tearing me apart. The past keeps me up at night because I feel like I should’ve done things differently at the time, the present worries me because I feel like I’m not doing it differently right now, and ultimately the future terrifies me because I’m scared I won’t be doing things differently in the future, either."
- It feels like a vicious circle; something I wrote last night. (via timbllr)
"There are never enough ‘I love you’s."
- Lenny Bruce (via observando)

landorus:

tomato-market:

landorus:

DO CHICKENS HAVE EARS HOW DO THEY HEAR THINGS

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heard u were talking shit

i cant believe ive never noticed their ears before

omaradly-madridista:

Raúl visits Ciudad Real Madrid

  • The ex-Whites player watched Real Madrid’s training session and greeted the members of the squad and coaching staff. Raúl González Blanco visited Ciudad Real Madrid and watched Real Madrid’s first training session of the week. At the end of the session he spoke to the players and coaching staff.
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