prettyme067

[prettyme067]

u know what makes me cry….. that one van gogh quote about life changing for the better….. “many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. and it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘what do i care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ yes, evil often seems to surpass good. but then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. one morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. and so i must still have hope.” yeah….. Crying….

[prettyme067]

This grief is a hurricane / that passes and passes. / The eye. The storm. The eye.

— from Chorus, eds. Saul Williams, Dufflyn Lammers & Aja Monet (via lifeinpoetry)

[prettyme067]

i’m curious. reblog with your name, its meaning and if you feel like it fits you. it’s for science.

[prettyme067]

I spent the afternoon arranging our books by size and color (and it’s so satisfying and looks amazing) and my partner came home and stared in shock at the bookcase and then said “i’m a librarian, you can’t do this.”

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“My mother passed away suddenly while I was studying in America. It was such a dark moment for me. She had been the most important person in my life, and I wasn’t even with her when she died. I needed to get home to Zimbabwe for the funeral, but it was right before Christmas so every flight was booked. The only ticket I could afford was a middle seat. It was so cramped. I couldn’t even move my legs. But I happened to notice an empty seat in the exit row behind me. The flight attendant allowed me to change places, and I sat down next to a white girl. I remember thinking: ‘She’s going to hate me for taking up her space.’ But instead she smiled and made a joke. She said: ‘Welcome to exit row paradise.’ There was an immediate connection. Right away we began talking about deep things. I told her about my mother. And she told me that her father had also died suddenly while she was working overseas. We started sharing stories of our parents. And before we landed, she ordered two whiskey drinks in celebration of my mom. I spent two weeks in Zimbabwe. I told all my friends that my mother had put an angel on my flight. My trip home wasn’t much easier. This time I had a long layover in London, so I sat down in the airport bar and ordered a beer. And in she walked. God had put us on the same flight once again. When we pulled out our tickets and looked at our seat numbers, we couldn’t believe it. She was seat 61. I was 60. I hadn’t even been looking to meet someone. I was determined to stay single and focus on my schoolwork. But it was like she had been brought to me. Everyone who meets Hannah tells me how lucky I am. She is so kind, and smart, and accomplished. We dated for almost two years before we got married. When I gave a speech at our reception, I didn’t need notes. Because I knew our story. I told everyone about that girl I met on a plane. And I was looking at her as I spoke, and she was now my wife, and it made me so emotional. It was so hard to know how to feel. I wanted my mom to meet her so bad. But if my mom was still here, I’d never have met her. Somehow I’d found the most important person in my life because I lost the most important person in my life.”

[prettyme067]

@h-brook-writes well, hello, fellow jon snow~ welcome to the club.

all of my characters are idiots. I cannot change this

[prettyme067]

I wish the world would go away. 

[prettyme067]

jsijsaiaooo

𝐀𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

He owns my heart

[prettyme067]

Things I expected while spending 3 days in & out of airports during a pandemic

[prettyme067]

Thank you! This truly means a lot 💞

similar to you, i also had the honor of witnessing the love you've written about in the eyes of my grandparents. what they had was something so utterly genuine & anchored in such unadulterated affection that it made this bitter world a better place. if i get to experience even a semblance of that raw & pristine kind of love, i would consider myself truly blessed. unfortunately, both of them passed away last year; my grandmother in January and my grandfather in august & my life has been altered

Thank you for writing this message. It is truly heartwarming to read you talking about your grandparents. A lot of love shines through in your words. That will always stay. And sometimes when life gets rough their memory will undoubtedly offer light in the darkness. It must’ve been hard losing the both of them in one year. My sincerest condolences. Still, I am happy for you to have seen and experienced them. Puts a smile on my face.

[prettyme067]

@definegodliness  i love and relate to this post so much i’m about to cry

Here’s the thing...

My grandparents deeply loved each other for an odd 60 years, and they met in their late twenties. If I’d love someone like they loved each other right now, I’d have to live up until the age of 92 to experience all that which they experienced. Which is preposterous, ‘cause seeing how life has been going I’ll be lucky to reach the age of 70. Still, I have witnessed something completely out of the ordinary, and I’m only realizing just now that such a love is, in fact, the ridiculous dream I’ve been chasing due to my perceiving it as the most natural occurrence. It is my fallacy. I didn’t see how lucky those two were. And, perhaps, how lucky I am to at least have witnessed such a love in my lifetime. I guess in terms of luckiness, right now, I should consider myself extremely blessed if I’ll have a love-like endeavour that ends with some kids and a divorce at 50 plus these days. Not to mention anything remotely close to real love at all. The way they’d sometimes look at each other, man; I’ve only met one girl that ever looked at me that way. It’s a gaze, in her case, or rather a glance that I remember witnessing in my grandparents’s case, of complete understanding, acceptation, and tenderness; an almost telekinetic moving into purposed action; a speaking from soul-to-soul. She died at 88, he died 10 years later. And right before he did, he prepared us by saying, ‘Little Marie has been beckoning me in my dreams’. Since then; three days. And he waited until all his children surrounded him before exhaling his last breath. At home. At his terms. In his favourite armchair. Peacefully. It was the first non-struggling death I had ever encountered, after having witnessed many that were as a matter of fact gruesome and untimely. And, I’m not gonna lie, all of this is something I’d wish for all people as kind as they were, but it’s also something I deeply envy. More than anything, I am saturated in the knowing that I blew my chance at having such a love, shared lastingly. We fucking had eternity. And, if anything, I am deeply aware that come the day I must die, the soul I’ll be beckoning, or who has been beckoning me in due time, will only have had a relatively marginal physical presence in my life considering those 60 years of the once witnessed ideal, as she is not physically present in my life currently. The loss of our love; her loss, is a loss that transcends a lifetime. That transcends time. It is a truth that keeps resonating within everything that is not temporal about me. And when everything except that temporality decays and rots away, I can only hope there’ll be another life hereafter, and thereby another chance, in which we’ll meet. 

— 15-1-2020, M.A. Tempels ©

[prettyme067]

please take the time to read this.

i swear to god, men raising their voice is the most terrifying thing in the whole world. they dont understand, like its an immediate panic response, game over

[prettyme067]

Tonight I may have had an encounter with the smoothest human being on earth.

As many of you know I work as an actor in a haunted house. This is a fun job for many reasons, but witnessing people’s reactions to being scared is by far the best. I’m a scare window actor, which means I hide behind a section of the wall that is held up by a latch that I can lift and drop away suddenly, scaring people with both my scream, and the loud sound my window makes upon being dropped. I have a small hole drilled in the wall to look through to see people passing.

The smoothest human being on the planet wore a white hoodie. He came in a group with three other friends. I did not expect to scare him much. After a while you can kind of gauge just by what you can glimpse from your peephole whether someone will be a good scare or not. Men in their 20’s in a mixed group of friends typically do not get scared easily. But this guy was wearing white in my blacklight-equipped hallway, so he had made himself an easy target and I had to take advantage.

I dropped my window precisely when he was in front of it.

He leapt back toward the wall on the other side of my narrow hallway and his drew back his arm like he meant to punch me.

“This is it.” I thought. “I’m finally going to be socked in the face for scaring someone.”

But I was wrong.

His arm kept curling back behind his head. Smoothly, flawlessly, effortlessly he tucked his hand behind his head, leaned back on the wall opposite me, and propped a foot up on the plywood frame of my open window, reclining with ease.

“So, come here often?” He asked.

All of this occurred within the span of a second. Maybe two.

I was shook. I was stunned. I almost broke character.

I shrugged. “Only on the weekends.” I replied with my character voice. His group laughed. He double finger gunned me and walked on.

I will never forget him.

I cannot stress enough how perfect his transition from his fear reaction to his playboy act was. It flowed so naturally.

He is already a legend in my haunt.

[prettyme067]

oh.

oh my..

messy redraw ‘cause I’m on a Tangled high ♡

[prettyme067]

this right here says it all

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this gave me goosebumps. holy shit.

“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”

—

Gary Provost (via tuongexists) Holy crap, what just happened there… (via cyrusgabriel)

Words, man. Words.

(via bookoisseur)

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😏 😏😏

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here” 😏😁👿 This Warner illustration was painted for @moonlightcrate Box as a tapestry 👑 Wanren from Shatter me book series by @tahereh 💚