yep
“Someone doesn’t like you? Fuck it. Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn’t get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it. What matters now won’t matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, ‘Damn, I have it good.’”
2013-08-31 @ 15:08:50
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yooo
I know today is Monday and you assume it’s going to suck, but according to statistics, there will be over 5,000 weddings, 10,000 childbirths, and 42 million hugs occurring today throughout the United States. Also today, there will be at least 4 people that will win the multimillion dollar lotteries, 600 people will get promotions at work, and 3,000 people will lose their virginity. There will also be 600 dogs adopted, 35,000 balloons sold, and 800,000 skittles eaten. Plus, the words “I love you” will be said over 9 million times. So again, I know today is Monday and you assume it’s going to suck, but just smile, because according to statistics, it should actually be a really nice day.
(via im-undone)
2013-08-30 @ 20:04:55
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av Hanna Bodell Mo9
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Testar med text - engelska läxa Mo9
Life, I am not quite sure what life is. All I know is that I am - in fact, alive. I think. The only thing I have to reassure myself of my consciousness is my never quiet mind, and the memory of my mother. I remember when life was given to me. I opened my eyes for the first time and I felt safe. I lay beside my mother and two of my brothers on something soft. Sand, I think. I remember that feeling, the feeling of peace and protection. I have to remember, to stay sane. Because honestly - what else do I have? That feeling, my mother, my brothers and sisters and even that sand... is gone now. It's all gone. And I can't remember why.
You have to excuse my thoughts. They're not as stable or sane as they used to be. Medication does that to you. Ah, right. You don't know about that yet. Well, let me tell you one thing I do know. I am medicated. Of course, I'm not sure what medication is or what it is made for. But I can tell the difference between my own mind and when it gets help from the outside world. I live in a box., with four blue walls and something hard under my feet. It's not big. I can move just about enough to see through the metal bars on the fourth wall. That is of course - if I have the energy. I used to be so full of energy - or instincts, whatever you want to call it. But the adrenalin and the feeling of life went away with my siblings. You see, I used to share one of these boxes with my family. But they were removed one after one. And not long after that they removed me as well. And with that they removed my instincts and my fire to fight for. I've been here ever since. I have no concept or meaning of time. So I don't know for how long I've been here, long enough.
I don't get it. Am I supposed to fight? Am I supposed to surrender? Am I supposed to just... exist? At the moment I'm living life after the third alternative. Who is the lamb and who is the knife here? Am I the hero, the one with change under my wing? I saw a bird once. It flew over my cage and chirped. It was blue, like the walls of my box. Oh you should have seen it, that young creature. It was so full of hope and it sensed the danger and tried to escape. That is also one thing that reminds me of life. I am alive. Because I saw someone trying to escape it.
The bird. His wings were made of beauty itself and he was a creature handmade by Mother Nature. His feathers were dark blue. Some kind of golden light pierced through my soul every time any form of light dared to touch his features. He was perfection. I stared at him for so long, I was afraid he would notice and tell me of. Even though I'm just a simple rat, I could tell he didn't mind me staring at him. He didn't mind anything. He had escaped his cage and he was on a mission. He flew above my head, in circles around the room for so long, refusing to let go of the determined idea of his freedom. Of course, the controllers interacted after what felt like a lifetime and the game was over. Game over. I never saw the bird again. But he gave me something though, something I will always carry with me. This bird was on a mission. He longed for freedom with every fiber in his pure being. And with his final breath, I saw him catch it. He gave me hope for the afterlife. And that is something the controllers with their white coats and their medication, never can take away from me.
"Courage is the one thing, no one ever can take away from you" - Chris Colfer
You have to excuse my thoughts. They're not as stable or sane as they used to be. Medication does that to you. Ah, right. You don't know about that yet. Well, let me tell you one thing I do know. I am medicated. Of course, I'm not sure what medication is or what it is made for. But I can tell the difference between my own mind and when it gets help from the outside world. I live in a box., with four blue walls and something hard under my feet. It's not big. I can move just about enough to see through the metal bars on the fourth wall. That is of course - if I have the energy. I used to be so full of energy - or instincts, whatever you want to call it. But the adrenalin and the feeling of life went away with my siblings. You see, I used to share one of these boxes with my family. But they were removed one after one. And not long after that they removed me as well. And with that they removed my instincts and my fire to fight for. I've been here ever since. I have no concept or meaning of time. So I don't know for how long I've been here, long enough.
I don't get it. Am I supposed to fight? Am I supposed to surrender? Am I supposed to just... exist? At the moment I'm living life after the third alternative. Who is the lamb and who is the knife here? Am I the hero, the one with change under my wing? I saw a bird once. It flew over my cage and chirped. It was blue, like the walls of my box. Oh you should have seen it, that young creature. It was so full of hope and it sensed the danger and tried to escape. That is also one thing that reminds me of life. I am alive. Because I saw someone trying to escape it.
The bird. His wings were made of beauty itself and he was a creature handmade by Mother Nature. His feathers were dark blue. Some kind of golden light pierced through my soul every time any form of light dared to touch his features. He was perfection. I stared at him for so long, I was afraid he would notice and tell me of. Even though I'm just a simple rat, I could tell he didn't mind me staring at him. He didn't mind anything. He had escaped his cage and he was on a mission. He flew above my head, in circles around the room for so long, refusing to let go of the determined idea of his freedom. Of course, the controllers interacted after what felt like a lifetime and the game was over. Game over. I never saw the bird again. But he gave me something though, something I will always carry with me. This bird was on a mission. He longed for freedom with every fiber in his pure being. And with his final breath, I saw him catch it. He gave me hope for the afterlife. And that is something the controllers with their white coats and their medication, never can take away from me.
"Courage is the one thing, no one ever can take away from you" - Chris Colfer