Rebeca, 18. Venezuela

supernatural-tardis:

i had a crush on this guy and i decided to pull a Pavlov on him by offering him whenever i saw him  this brand of candy he seemed to really like and after a while whenever he saw me he got excited for a second then you could see his expression shift to wondering the why the hell was he so happy to see me and i swear it was the evilest thing but also the most hilarious i made a guy like me by conditioning him into associating me to a candy he liked

(via urbancatfitters)

Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (via lostandstranded)

(via i-need-a-cure)

For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child’s boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn’t immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.

And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don’t have genuine souls.

It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else.

I would have done anything to feel real again.

juspeczyks:

Remember limewire

Remember sometimes getting the song you were actually looking for and sometimes getting an mp3 of bill clinton saying that he didn’t have sexual relations with that woman instead

(via labyrinthinehearts)

brattyvegan:

i wish i saw this the one and only time i went to a show alone. worst. experience. ever.

(Source: queenofvomit, via apatheticparadox)

fuck-no-ghosties:

vegetability:

blazeberg:

I’m freaking out I don’t usually reblog this stuff but this is like incredible

You should not wear designer shoes to the construction site or the high-g training, just saiyan

Wow. Something not shitty. Good job

(via distraughtteen)

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