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aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the cycle repeats
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*looks at books* too tired for you *looks at films* too tired for you *looks at art supplies* too tired for you *eyes fall on tumblr* oho ho
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they say you can't pour from an empty cup but i've been doing it my whole life and aside from all of these mysterious ailments it's working out great for me
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just me, Edgar Allan Poe and our unhealthy coping mechanisms (romanticizing melancholy) against the world.
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Peeta: Shouldn't get stressed out, it's not good for the baby.
Katniss: What baby?
Peeta, crying a bit: Me.
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Poetry is a destructive force — you write to save yourself, but the words become a cage you can’t escape.
Abhilasha.
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Might be the greatest Hunger Games edit I’ve ever seen omg
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André Gide, from a journal entry featured in The Journals of Andre Gide, Vol. 2: 1914-1927
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Vampire bat. Zoologica. 1935.
Internet Archive
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[ID: excerpt from ‘Elektra,’ by Sophokles (tr. Anne Carson)
“Do I not live? Badly, I know, but I live.”]
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I saw someone say that by dying in the bombing that Prim died the way she was always meant to if Katniss hadn't intervened. Surrounded by innocent children. I haven't been the same since.
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