my sister texted me this from the grocery store
"Who what am I? My answer:
I am the sum total of everything that went before me,
of all I have been seen done,
of everything done-to-me.
I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected
was affected by mine.
I am anything that happens after I’ve gone
which would not have happened if I had not come.
Nor am I particularly exceptional in this matter;
each "I," every one of the now-six-hundred-million-plus of us,
contains a similar multitude.
I repeat for the last time:
to understand me, you’ll have to swallow a world."-Saleem Sinai, Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
I’m a screw up. And I plan to be a screw up until my late twenties, maybe even my early thirties.
"I’m going to speak from the heart for one second. Without a doubt, we’ve been a band for five years, and we have never played for a more passionate, awesome fucking audience than you. Guys, don’t … Don’t make me emotional. Brian, stop texting this is a moment. We’re going to be doing a signing, where we want to meet as many of you as fucking possible. A guy is gonna come out here in a minute and tell you where to go and what to do, but we just wanna say we fucking, fucking love you.”
True bara comes from your soul, not your muscles.
— Sierra DeMulder, excerpt from “Unrequited Love Poem” (via psych-facts)
*breaks fingers* let’s do this
I MEANT “CRACKS KNUCKLES” HOLY SHIT