@thedayisstillgrey-blog

And sometimes falling is just another way to fly 🍃
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alunit
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prongsmydeer

Being a procrastinator with a violent fear of failure is almost hilarious because like 80% of the time I’m like “I’m not even going to think about this” and then there’s like a distinct moment when everything switches and it turns to “I can’t fail oh my god I need to turn this into an A in like a day why am I like this”

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alunit
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latenz
Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possible have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possible work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, than you are going to do it. It’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint.

(via alunit)

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booksqouted
I’ve learned to get really good at this - say one thing when I’m thinking about something else, act like I’m listening when I’m not, pretend to be calm and happy when I’m really freaking out. It’s one of the skills you perfect as you get older.

Lauren Oliver, Delirium (via booksqouted)

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sad-monsterr-blog
I don’t really understand the point in life. Not really in the whole “I’m a piece of shit and I want to die” suicidal way, but in the “How am I different from anyone else?” kind of way. There are 7 billion people in this world and I probably only really know a couple hundred. I am 1 person in 7 billion. 1 person out of 7 billion who do the same thing everyday. School, work, sleep, eat. Of course some people earn more money than others but does that really matter? We all die in the end. So what’s the point? What’s the point in staying alive if I am not going to do anything special? I’m going to finish university, get a job, get married, have kids and then die. We all die in the end. Why can’t I do it now if I’m in so much pain already? No one will miss me. There will still be 7 billion other people in this world to count on. I just don’t understand what the point in life is if we are all doing the same damn thing. No one is known, no one is special. We all live in our own little worlds with our friends and family and nothing else. You can be famous, but only if you have a special talent, which I don’t. You can be rich, but other than having nicer clothes and homes than the rest of us what does that really do? It just makes no fucking sense. I’m not doing anything different with my life than my best friend, or that girl that lives in England, so why do I have to be alive?

I don’t want to be here anymore (via sad-monsterr)