Books are about words. Just like this blog is predominantly about words. Because words are beautiful - they shape the way we think, they construct our reality and they are ultimately all I have.
Remember how, when you were young, you could be sad, and it was like nothing else mattered? Minutes later, you could be the happiest person on Earth, and everything was perfect.
Now? Whether you’re happy or sad, you have to carry on. Society has told you so, and conditioned you to desensitize yourself to what made you human in the first place. When you don’t immerse yourself in the emotion, a part of it remains, until you don’t really know what you’re feeling anymore. Are you sad because of this event? Or happy because something happened yesterday?
Are we sad? Yes, if you use sad in lieu of ‘pathetic’. A life like ours is really fucking sad.
(Source: i-am-the-oracular-spectacular)
(Source: i-am-the-oracular-spectacular)
(Source: magicalnaturetour)
(Source: chillthoughts)
(Source: tastefullyoffensive)
Okay
I’ll hold you to that
