There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.

You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.

In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.

Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.

People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.

You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.

At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were.

Are You Dissociating?


Dissociating is one of the most common responses to abuse and trauma. It involves feeling numb, detached or unreal and (while it happens to everyone once in a while) is experienced more frequently and severely in survivors. Dissociating people vary widely in symptoms and…

(Source: theresalwaysalwayssomething)


Andréwa may have been the best thing to show at New York Fashion Week. This panders to me in a way I really enjoy and heartily embrace.

Support system my ballsack.

I decide
- not to go to any contrived senior week bullshit
- to opt out of the weird college-prom that would have cost me 30 bucks
- to freak out and have some weird mood swings this month and subsequently drop off the face of the earth [NOTE: this was not a decision] [NOTE: this is actually really obnoxious and I GET THAT AND ALSO I’M SORRY]

and suddenly y’all are butthurt.


But none of you are moving across the country. You’re living less than an hour away from me for the foreseeable future. Fuck your memories, and fuck your 30 dollars, I refuse to pretend to be happy and put on your clothes and prance around at that fucking event because you feel like taking pictures. I’m not a trained monkey, I’m your friend. A terrible friend, admittedly, but one you chose.

I do badly with events. Always have, probably always will. This isn’t changing today. Now either all of you can stop talking shit (because I Know You Are), or you can stop talking to me permanently.

In other news

Everybody look at Cave to Canvas today (5/28), because they’re (she’s) featuring Cesar Santos and I’m digging it so hard I can’t even. Go look.

The other day, Friends asked me if I ghost-wrote this blog. The answer is no, but shit like this makes me wish I did. 

The other day, Friends asked me if I ghost-wrote this blog. The answer is no, but shit like this makes me wish I did. 

I contain multitudes: satanic2chainz: gbg-g replied to your post: also i don’t really know...


gbg-g replied to your post: also i don’t really know that I buy sherlock as a…

Nah son, amphetamines don’t makes sense. Sherlock is incredibly smart, always seeing and always watching. He’d use a drug to slow himself down and zone out, not amp himself up

COUNTERARGUMENT: Some amp-y up-y drugs act specifically on the parts of the brain that regulate executive functioning (a la Adderall and other ADD/ADHD medication). So while they’re stimulants, they allow people who have very active thought processes to, in essence, task-manage more efficiently - things don’t slow down, but the part of the brain that regulates attention is amped up so that speed is put to use. I think (NOT AN EXPERT) some amphetamines can have this effect on certain people under certain conditions. And in practice, to an outside observer, it looks like calming down. So that’s a thing?

(Source: blacksupervillain)

Pre-Finals Exams Week

So much studying.

So much studying!

I just wanna write, you guys, that’s. That’s really it.

Open declaration. Fuck this other bullshit with a railway spike. I’ve been a really good achiever, I gave it my all. And now I am going to amputate the rest of my CV and become gypsy scum. You heard it here first.

I practiced saying it a couple times last month too, when innocent bystanders asked me about my life goals. I’m going to be a playwright, I told them. I am going to get punched by children for 40 hours a week, and on my off days, I am going to write.

Oh, they said. That’s nice.


“that was a misstep”