I’m really scared of frogs.
Oh you know just beat Voldemort when I was 11. Then his memory when I was 12. Saved my godfather when I was 13. Competed in a Triwizard Cup when I was 14 then watched my sort of friend die and witnessed the rebirth of the Dark Lord but made it out alive. Oh when I was 15 I fought Voldemort again and found out that I have a destiny and that I had to kill Voldemort if the Wizarding World were to find peace. When I was 16, I had to deal with that info and school and find Horcruxs in order to kill Voldemort and had to watch my mentor die at the hands of my enemy. 17 was a rough year too. I couldn’t return to school, Voldemort took over the Wizarding World, I chased down Horcruxs with my best friends, almost lost one, found the place where my parents died protecting me, then I broke into a bank, stole a dragon, flew to Hogwarts and lead my friends into battle against the forces of evil, losing some of them at the hands of evil wizards, then sacrificed myself so the war could end and give my friends a chance. Turns out I managed to kill the part of Voldemort in me then killed him and saved the entire world. And that was all in just a span of 7 years.
Hey Edward Cullen, you’ve been around forever. What the fuck have you done besides whine and bitch and moan?
i just thought this was awesome. I’m not the biggest Twilight hater or anything, but this is so true. I read the first Twilight book and that was enough for me.
I am an extremely loyal ‘significant other’.
But only if I feel like I really am your significant other.
I’m not the type that likes to be kept guessing.
ooOOooh…Tumblr on my MacBook Dashboard!
I’m still in bed. In my pj’s. And I’m resolving to make this day a happier one than yesterday.
how intensely lonely I am.
even with so many good friends,
I still feel like nobody sees me.
I’m terrified of being alone for any extended period of conscious time.
Eating alone, going to the bar alone, doing a lot of things alone.
Hell, unconscious, too. I hate sleeping alone.
In case you were too drunk tonight to remember what I said, I thought to type it out for you.
1: I’m a non-judgmental person. You’re my friend. That quote “Only God can judge me”? Yeah. That’s how I look at people. I’m not God. I can’t judge you. And I won’t. Ever.
2: Yes. You’re dying. But it’s what happens. Everyone goes, as you said, ‘kaput’. We all die sooner or later. It’s what you do with the days you have that count. Like I said. Be a good person. That’s all you can do in the world. It’s all that needs to be done to make a positive daily impact in anyone’s life.
3: We’ve both lived beyond our years. Perhaps you should try taking a more positive view on that subject, though. It means we’ve seen some hardships. But what that does NOT mean is that we should be bitter about it. Take the experiences. Take a lesson from every one and move on.
4: This, I thought of on the drive home. Life is short. You of all people should grasp that. Why spend your days being miserable and downtrodden? To live is more than to breathe and exist. To live is to feel everything. I know you feel the sorrows in life. Why not try leaving those in the back of your mind and letting loose?
Let go of what you know. Embrace the beauty of life in its full form.
I’ll explain that ‘life in full form’ bit to you next time we have one of our talks.
5: I really will punch you if you ever call me by my first name again.
But you’re still my friend.
When I say that, I mean the depth of the writing and the way you portray things with such perfectly chosen words and metaphors. It’s captivating.
And yes, the little things do mean the most.
Two days ago, the brother I virtually raised myself got his driver’s permit.
Today, my sister graduated from high school.
I feel so so old all of a sudden.
When my last sibling hits the graduation mark, I’m going to have a problem.
I don’t care for being the oldest.
I’ve realized my attachment to you.
Now I’m worried what I’ll be when we merge and you eventually pull away, like the others, leaving nothing but a copy of some trait that was yours. Left on my skin like a wound worn proudly by someone who doesn’t comprehend the damage done to the nerves beneath.
With #1 it was cigarettes. An addiction with which still beats at me to this day.
Each one reminding me of him. Thin. Pale. Fragile.
I still worry. That’s why I keep in touch.
With #2 it was booze. He was built like a handle of Skyy.
Tall, dark, hard. As cold as the frost on the blue glass and as hot as the moment the voka goes down.
Passion and anger and a sudden end. A flare, a fizzle, a death.
I wish he’d speak to me, though I know I don’t deserve it.
#3 I fight the things I gained from you.
Not because I don’t want to remember you, but because you just haven’t got a clue about getting out of slumps. The only things I’ve gladly taken that you left behind are your friends, your old room, and a love for Bob Marley. But you really should come back and visit. Because we do miss you.
Please. I’m begging you.
Give me something deeper to stick around for. I know it’s there.
Growing up in a house where mother and father are always around.
In a house where everybody’s in somebody else’s personal space, not because they’re crammed quietly into a car together, but because they choose to be literally close to the other family members.
Where the only loud moments in the house are of people laughing or the volume is up a bit too high.
Where you have felt perfectly comfortable living for 19 years.
Moving into a house where you barely know a thing about anyone, even when you’ve known them all of your life or all of theirs.
Imagine this new family doesn’t talk much to you or to each other.
They don’t display much physical contact at all with each other and spend the majority of their time at home seeming to avoid the other family members.
The father spends hours at a time in the woods or in the basement.
The mother has an odd work schedule and spends the time home watching television or carrying a large burden of laundry.
One sister’s mood is about as predictable as a black hole
And the other sister divides all time between television and computer games.
Everyone is in their own little world.
And I had to make my own. Just not in a house where I don’t feel that I belong.
I need physical contact with people, I need people to actually speak with me, not at me or so reservedly.
Try living with people you were just kind of grafted into a family with.
A family unit where it seems that nobody likes anyone else in the home.
Four people who don’t communicate but just happen to live together.
I did this before, too, though.
So it’s just that I’m uncomfortable in such a cold house and that it’s also just a habit.
= most intellectually stimulating film I have ever seen.
watch when stoned.
Honestly,I’m not that awesome a person.
Truthfully, I’m painfully average.
Seriously, I’m doing the best I can.
And it’s all we ever can do.
encircled in curves of trailing, burning fluid.
warmth and energy in any weather.
I can’t wait to light this world up.
If you want to see me so badly, then get in the car and drive the two or three hours. You don’t work, you don’t have any excuse not to.
I, however, have a job. It doesn’t pay enough to make a trip out there and back.
Last time I went to see you, you messed it up big time and I was miserable.
You live with your loud, racist boyfriend and his racist, ancient mother.
Guess you didn’t bother to tell them your “favorite” oldest granddaughter is part black.
You don’t call your kids, their wives don’t care for you, and the two of your eight grandchildren who are old enough to see through your overly-sweet sugar coating realize that you’re just take, take, take and gossip, gossip, gossip.
Spinning your opinions into fabricated stories to turn nieces against aunts and daughters-in law against each other.
And it never works.
You’re turning 65, Gram.