halcyon days
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My Pilgrim Soul: Girl Talk
beautifulLet’s talk about a girl.
It doesn’t matter who she belongs to. In essence, at the core of everything, she belongs to no one and yet, you see her as yours, floating alongside your hopes and dreams and aspirations for a normal life with someone who thinks and talks and…
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The wind that haunts the August horizon whispers bitter dirges.
You will wake up soon. I was just a dream. -
“We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and — in spite of True Romance magazines — we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely — at least, not all the time — but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.”
Hunter S. Thompson (American, 1937-2005) (via anneyhall)
(via fuckyeahexistentialism)
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my new favourite korean dish. I have been craving it like mad since the last time my boyfriend made it ;m;Naengmyeon
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There are tears streaming down my face oh lawd I can’t breathe. BELOWTRICKS. LAUGH EATERS.Happy Potter, the boy who laughed
HAPPY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SMILES
Happy Potter and the Comedian of Azkaban.
Happy Potter and the Smiling Stone
Happy Potter and the Goblet of Giggles
Harry Potter and the Lively Hallows.
HAPPY POTTER AND THE HAPPY BUBBLY PRINCE
HAPPY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PUPPIES
Join Happy Potter,
Hermione Giggler, and
Ron Wheezing,
in a hilarious adventure to make the Dark Lord laugh.Lord Loldemort is depressed and angry because he isn’t like Happy Potter or Albust Out Laughing Dumbledore. He is joined by a band of equally depressed Laugh Eaters, like Belowtricks LeStrange, and Losinit Malfoy.
Happy must go through many jokes and playful riddles, facing Severe Huss Snape, finding Loldemort’s mysterious Whorecruxes… Which are the only thing that can make him laugh.
Happy is joined by his ragtag team of ex-clowns, Siriusly Black, Remus Laughing, Tinks, The Wheezings, Mad-Eye Not-Moody, Kingsley Cacklebolt, and many others. Together they can save the Wizarding world from sure peril.
JESUS
CHRIST
omg what is air.
this just came back better
Albust Out Laughing Dumbledore
This has been on my dash a hundred times but this version is the best
CRACKING. UP.
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I loved you.
I think I can count the number of times I heard this said to me in Korean on just one hand. For whatever reason, in Korean culture, these words are rarely said out loud, or even written. Even in Korean dramas (our version of soap operas), literally translated, what is most often heard is “I like you,” not “I love you.” There’s this really great (cheesy) Korean movie about a woman who is desperate to learn English so that she can work at the U.S. Embassy in Korea, and in one of the final scenes, her lover says, “I love you” in English after she has finally mastered the language, and she frowns and shakes her head, and says, “No, it just doesn’t sound as beautiful when you say it in English. Always say it to me in Korean.”
Love—when true—is beautiful in no matter what language it is uttered. Yet…perhaps there’s a silly Korean drama watching girly side of me that hopes someday, someone will say the three words to me in Korean.
The note above is for the only man I ever loved, but I don’t think he’d understand it.
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heaving,
my fingers are
swollen with
non-supplicants,
words that refuse to
shape themselves into
the vowels that
sound my
heart. -
“…there is an idea of Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter insignificance towards it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behaviour must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have, countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing…” — American Psycho (Bret Easton Ellis 376-377)
