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Strokes of Brain Matter
I'm Kathie.
Posted 6 hours ago on Aug 28th with 573 notes
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Posted 6 hours ago on Aug 28th with 10,201 notes
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I’ve learned to no longer hold people proverbially hostage if they wish to leave my world. The less I depend on others to keep my world intact, the less it affects me when they choose to exit.
- Dae Lee (Daeizm)
Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 1,536 notes
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Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 8,939 notes
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boyirl:

Hope Gangloff

Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 16,567 notes
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Before you say yes, get him angry. See him scared, see him wanting, see him sick. Stress changes a person. Find out if he drinks and if he does, get him drunk - you’ll learn more about his sober thoughts. Discover his addictions. See if he puts you in front of them. You can’t change people, baby girl. If they are made one way, it doesn’t just wear off. If you hate how he acts when he’s out of it now, you’re going to hate it much worse eight years down the road. You might love him to bits but it doesn’t change that some people just don’t fit.
- inkskinned, “My father’s recipe for the man I should marry” (via kffj)
Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 267,284 notes
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Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 16,846 notes
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Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 5,617 notes
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gay8:

Man… probably the most mysterious species on our planet. A mystery of unanswered questions. Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going? How do we know what we think we know? Why do we believe anything at all? Countless questions in search of an answer… an answer that will give rise to a new question… and the next answer will give rise to the next question and so on. But, in the end, isn’t it always the same question? And always the same answer?”

Lola Rennt! (1998) directed by Tom Tykwer

Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 273 notes
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supmariss:

Newport, RI | cliff walk

Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 12 notes
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Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 119 notes
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There is something about poverty that smells like death. Dead dreams dropping off the heart like leaves in a dry season and rotting around the feet; impulses smothered too long in the fetid air of underground caves. The soul lives in a sickly air. People can be slave-ships in shoes.
- Zora Neale Hurston, Dust Tracks on a Road: An Autobiography (New York:  HarperCollins, 1996), 87. (Originally published 1942)
Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 03rd with 3,311 notes
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accidentalslut:

I C O N I C

Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 02nd with 222,285 notes
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daxsymbiont:

when I was studying Greek I would get frustrated and annoyed because often, at the beginning of a sentence or clause — or just scattered haphazardly throughout — there would be three or four “particles” with no specific meaning. the literal translation might be “so thus and”, but of course you couldn’t put that down. they were just placeholder words, colloquial linguistic padding.

now, of course, I realize that I start sentences with “okay but like”.

you can sing the praises of the Greeks all you want, but the fact is, Plato wrote with all the elegance and grace of an off-the-cuff tumblr post.

Posted 3 weeks ago on Aug 02nd with 9,773 notes
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coltre:

This is an old pic I took of one of my friends. We went to the sea, and she told me her boyfriend broke her heart that day. And oh god oh god she was so sad. She took off all of her clothes and jumped in the water without saying a word. I watched her swimming so far and then coming back. When she walked out she sat near the water and I took this picture of her. I’ll never forget her.

Posted 1 month ago on Jul 28th with 64,813 notes
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