When Love & Hate Collide: Archive

2 tags

Dec 12th

4 notes

Oct 26th

37 notes

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love...”

– Bob Marley (via missmickip)

Oct 26th

94 notes

WOMEN ARE CHAOS AND FUCK TO THEM!

We can debate the definition of what chaos is and what its not but I’m not here to do that. My definition of chaos is anything that is in a constant state of unpredicability. Feelings and emotions, when mixed, can and usually do, create chaos. They can confuse us to the point where we cannot make a logical descision. For example emotions like joy by itself, is constant. But when mixed...

Oct 25th

Oct 24th

6,387 notes

Oct 21st

3,634 notes

Oct 14th

1 note

Me Too. Yes. Me Too.

blabbersandstutters: Ah, the play of irony. Normalcy, a word that each of us wants to denounce and yet it is the only word that can give that sweet buzz of champagne on a person born with the 21st chromosome.

Oct 14th

8 notes

4 tags

Oct 14th

9 notes

1 tag

Oct 13th

672 notes

Oct 13th

12,661 notes

1 tag

Oct 7th

17 notes

1 tag

The Little Prince

Little Prince: "What must I do, to tame you?" 
Fox: "You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."
 [···]
Fox: "It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."

Oct 7th

5 notes

1 tag

Oct 7th

8,346 notes

1 tag

Oct 6th

4,570 notes

2 tags

The Coin

Two sides to show its jest. The shiny surface and the worms underneath. The visible, smiles for you, but the one you don’t see contorts its anguish, like weatherbeaten weavework. The concrete remains unblemished, but the decay permeates the abstract. Appearances are deceitful. A smile to paint the pretension. A fake joy to adorn the dirty weeping.

Oct 6th

2 notes

1 tag