last night, my brother came home really late from an event he had with his fraternity brothers. he comes home late often and i never really think much of it, but last night i just had a really bad feeling and i was really worried. he came home safe, but at around 2 in the morning when my parents were asleep, he comes in my room and tells me that while he was coming home from the city a man in the car next to him pointed a gun at him. he sped up just as the guy shot, and the bullet hit a pole right where my brother’s car was.
i cried. because these things happen so unexpectedly and they’re all out of our control. my brother might not have come home last night… i can’t even think about something like that. death isn’t something you can sit prepared for. im so glad he’s okay.
“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.”—Arundhati Roy (via restartmyheart) (via somesecretstories)
one time, at chuckie cheese’s when i was a little kid, i asked this girl who had been playing the same game for hella days if i could play after her. she turned around, bit my arm, and ran away… i didnt play the game. i washed my arm off in the bathroom and asked my cousin to take me home. i was maybe 5 years old
"they're all gone - she'll rot, wishing as she swam that her own moon would be her only friend, but he too is swimming away an inch more every year and..."
~ mimicking birds
i’ll never understand the way we get bored of things easily, and jump from one thing to the next as if its all that simple… my legs hurt from trying too hard to keep up so you dont get bored of me, but since you already have, i think i’m gonna give up and just sleep on it forever.
i wanna be an artist when i grow up- i wanna inspire people to think about nice things in a gross way, and i wanna do art for people who’ll love it. i want people to know my name, and refer to me as that nice, short, brown kid who does sweet things for people, haha
“The truth is, we hide because we want to be found. We walk away to see who will follow. We fall to see who will come pick us up. We cry to see who will wipe away our tears and we let our hearts get broken to see who will come and fix them. Fate determines who walks into your life; you determine who you let walk out, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.”—Unknown (via skyisland) (via somesecretstories)
"and all we are, is burning stars. shining brightly making sure you don't float too far. i'll keep an eye on you if you keep one on me, and then what happens we'll see"
i love books, not boys. caring too much is just as much a problem as caring too little. but i think if we mix the two we’d be the perfect person. i wonder if any of that is fixable? when i rolled off of my bed this morning, so did a couple paintbrushes. i spend most of my time doing art, reading, and drinking tea (all in my bed), rather than studying. and even though it’ll probably come back and hurt me later, i’m happy with the way everything flows. i’m happy being upset with what a selfish shit you are, with choosing to ignore it and hoping that one day after i move away i’ll forget about you and never have to deal with people like you ever again, with going to summer school, and with not fitting all the stereotypes people mold for us. i want to be creative and homeless and structured and put together all at the same time.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
i wanna visit the Lewis River, real bad… and drowning in it sounds pretty nice too. i wanna go someplace where theres vast open land, lots of sunshine, and plenty of books. today somebody asked me about what makes me happy. i needed sometime to think about it and it sounds almost unfortunate that what makes ME happy is making sure OTHER people are happy. in a sea full of all kinds of different people i feel undervalued.
“My name is George. And this… is the inside of my mind. The inside of my mind has a zillion things. The inside of my mind has a zillion things about it. But… people that don’t see inside my mind don’t know there are a zillion things and… You know, since no one sees inside my mind, no one really knows. But… one day people will know. One day people will know because that’s my master plan. To film it all. To document every aspect of the life that is me. And put it in a time capsule in my back yard. And so that one day, some… alien, or some highly evolved species, will find it and… understand.”—Josh Peck, Mean Creek
this is AMAZING. sebastian kempa is a genius! my new favorite artist
Clothes are our second layer of skin. They disguise, reveal, mirror our innermost being or help to hide it. By wearing certain clothes we can for example give an indication of our profession, our social status or our emotional mood. A business suit makes us guess that the person behind it is a banker, office worker, insurance agent and so on. In our society it is a sign of trustworthiness. But to which degree is this assumption correct? Can we really trust this cover unreservedly? What is really behind it? Can the illusion be destroyed when all of a sudden a tattoo appears under the suit or does the person remain to be unfathomable?
Here you have the opportunity to perceive the different effect between a person dressed in their characteristic clothes and in the nood.
NIKITA! Don't be discouraged by your parents' actions and blindness. I'd kill to have a Gurnani original on my wall. Your paintings are absolutely gorgeous and I'm so jealoussss of your talents. Don't let your parent's obliviousness cut off your creative flow. You can't afford an artistic brainfart! You got bills to pay, nigga. (;