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'i have not given u space to lie in, i have given u death' - photobooth, college
is it right to feel as though all my loves stay like splinters in a heart that will rot much faster than they?
jared worried about what was right a lot, as though he would ever answer his own worries, as though they had answers.
but in new spring new york, when the sun hits your face as you cross an avenue and wonder how magical the world must be for this automated playlist to know precisely what to play at this precise moment, you couldn’t blame him for asking almost anything.
not when the world is so beautiful here, and there also, and when fear is a cab coming too fast down the road and love a stoplight turned red.
jared felt the carpet under his feet when he came home and felt how good it’d be to jump on it. so he did and he sang to the voice of a girl he knew once loved him, who must be singing now of some other love past theirs. it made him happy and so terribly sad, and made him think of Jackie too, who had said to him once “I found you too late this time, but on the next go-around, I’ll b punctual .” he thought about that every day. it was so wondrous to him that someone he once loved could believe in love like that, between lives and outside bodies, and how remarkable it was that no longer having that someone made sense.
it was right; and now, jumping on the carpet, marveling at machines, Jared took a breath to open the window for the first time in months and meet new spring new york.
That time I spent 15 hours snapchatting and it was incredible
In case you missed it: Mashable embarked on a Hobbit Snapchat quest ththroughout New York City last week to pick up a Blu-Ray of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. You can check out the full adventure here.
He says you are free, you are free, go be free, but freedom turns out to have fences and dogs.
me caught by a sexpigeon
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A wall of actual #direwolf skulls, just a few of the thousands found in the asphalt pits at in Los Angeles. [#GoT is real] (at Page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits)
I started this little blog with my friend Hayley. It looks back on all the questions I have asked myself in writing over the years - in my journals and online. Hopefully, you might find one you’ve asked yourself too.
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Sometimes I like to peak at the back of poem.
Oh you! Oh death! of the singular answers,
Of the short-lived sputters of the faithful, of deserts deserted by the wise,
Of yourself never questioning yourself, (for who more wise than you, or who less faithful?)
Of mouths that willfully stay silenced, of the subjects abstract, of the contentment never renew’d
Of the rich questions of one, of the swift and beautiful individuals you pass through you,
Of the full and useful moments of the rest, with the rest you removed,
The answer, O you! (so sweet, heard only once) - What sadness within you, O you, O death?
Are you here - does life end or lives at all,
Do poor realites stop as i pass through silently?
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i have given up believing that only beautiful things are to be reblogged
and on wondering what love is like on the west coast
or if i have hurt you, ever
there is such a heavy now
and i could cry because of it
stay with me
in the bottom of the night
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