do you ever just wanna sit next to someone and listen to everything they could possibly say about anything ever just because you like their face and their voice and their general existence
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i love paintings that look as if they have ghosts in them
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– Смотри: я сфинкс….
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The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
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ok wait, reblog if you’ve cried at least once because of math, doesn’t matter which grade
i’m trying to prove something
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Sick sick sick of possibility of being fucking recorded every waking second by tiktok obsessed quasi celebs. Video titled something like "Caught him thinking he's the main character" but it was just a kid wearing headphones, looking out the bus window. Of course it was posted without his knowledge. Stop recording strangers and everything you see, nobody gives a shit and not everyone is happy to be on tiktok or youtube because of a moron with no braincells and an account. What could be a forgettable awkward moment is now permanently there for the victim of lackabrainis infested idiot to get anxious about forever.
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something something the poetry of science etc
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“TELL A FRIEND THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH THEM TONIGHT” Instagram Post, Hanif Abdurraqib
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life is for taking therapeutic walks and being in your own bubble and reading books in bed and drinking iced beverages and eating fruit and gaining new experiences and dozing in sunlight and finding love in everything and not letting guilt consume your life actually
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Seriously what do I have to do, in order for someone to love me as much as Oliver loved James? To be loved so much that the other takes the blame for a murder I committed. Does such love even exists for me in life? It's probably reserved for very special people.
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Ferdinand Knab (German ,1834–1902)
A Woman at a Fountain with Rising Moon ,1866.
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feminine urge to Know Everything and speak 12 languages
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