T n T

Trash and Treasures :)

it might seem that i loathe these humans but i feel otherwise. touch them and you might end up in a hopital bed with restraints on

“If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough,” Albert Einstein

my bad. i cant even

bloody to shitty.. gotta throw my pen eventually

force majore

we tend to lose people who live their lives selflessly taking into consideration, where nature inevitably cues “action” on its movie slate. for which i am certain, that i may live for a century or two.

although, i may not heartily know them but the fact that ive known that they are gone still made me feel that grief that their loved ones are experiencing

they have lived a good and a purpose driven life hence, they are now walking beside the one who lent it to them

how can you reciprocate love?
does it equate to some quantity on how much time and effort you should invest into that certain relationship?
how can you say you’ve given and received enough?

uncomplicated

totally does not understand your clumsiness but just keeps his mouth shut
looks at you like you’re the only person in a crowded room
longs for you as if the world would end tomorrow
holds your hand to let you know he’ll always be by your side
kisses you as though its your first
perfectly accepts your imperfections
loves you not knowing why
he just do

“Fall in love with someone who wants you, who waits for you. who understands you even in the madness; someone who helps you, and guides you, someone who is your support, your hope. fall in love with someone who talks with you after a fight. Fall in love with someone who misses you and wants to be with you. Do not fall in love only with a body or with a face; or with the idea of being in love”

—   (via stephanietorress)

(Source: stay-impure, via moowtina)

ohadelaide-pls:

vickified:

“If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”

 I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something. ”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her. ”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds. She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds. ”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere. The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old.  I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace. I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.
 Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief. ”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art. 4 seconds He spots her. 3 seconds His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope. 2 seconds My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him. 1 second - ”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
 I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.
 I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it. 
 The numbers have never changed.
 They’ve always been at 0.

ohadelaide-pls:

vickified:

If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”

 I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something.
 ”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her.
 ”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds.
 She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds.
 ”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere.

 The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old. 
 I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace.

 I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.

 Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief.
 ”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art.
 4 seconds
 He spots her.
 3 seconds
 His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope.
 2 seconds
 My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him.
 1 second -
 ”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.

 I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.

 I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it. 

 The numbers have never changed.

 They’ve always been at 0.

(Source: illness-and-instruments, via moowtina)