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fly like a cheese stick,

or fish fingers and custard.

#1289 tous les fous font la fête, sous le feu des baïonnettes
Sunday, 29 June 2014

how silly to even think I had a chance


#1288 faut pas trop pousser, ils vont nous plumer, on n'est pas des alouettes
Wednesday, 25 June 2014

forever so inadequate


#1287 les aristos s'entêtent à ne laisser que des miettes
Monday, 23 June 2014

you are so stupid you can't even be saved anymore why are you even trying


#1286 écrire l'histoire dans les couleurs de l'espoir, pour un nouveau monde
Sunday, 22 June 2014

hanging on by my fingernails, dreaming of nonsensical futures, wishing I were anyone but me


#1285 j'inventerai le printemps pour un nouveau monde
Wednesday, 18 June 2014

I just want to smile properly why can't I even smile properly?


#1284 donnez-moi du bleu pour dessiner d'autres cieux en rouge et blanc
Sunday, 15 June 2014

Darwin expressly denied that natural selection necessarily produces creatures that are notably superior to their predecessors. He had spent a long time studying barnacles, after all, and barnacles are astonishingly successful--we find them everywhere. But they descended from free-living, shrimplike ancestors and became barnacles by losing their brains and sticking themselves head-first to rocks--hardly a great leap forward, but it worked.
Diatryma was flightless, like a modern emu--it was much too big to fly--but it was far more formidable. It stood over six feet tall and, unlike an emu, was seriously sturdy. Most impressive, however, was its enormous head--about the size of a modern pony's--with a commensurately huge hooked beak like a giant eagle's. Diatryma seems to have been related to modern fowl such as chickens, which might not seem too impressive until we consider the sheer belligerence of chickens in the form of fighting cocks.
It is possible too that Diatryma used its huge beak as a scythe for slicing coarse vegetation. But the most obvious guess is that it was a predator, reminding us that birds are descended from dinosaurs. Here, perhaps, was a Tertiary reincarnation of Tyrannosaurus rex--somewhat miniaturized but formidable nonetheless. Perhaps the nearest equivalent in the modern world is the cassowary, which can disembowel the unwary wanderer with one stroke of its prodigious clawed feet.

I like this guy.


#1283 que le château de ces vaniteux, la liberté en chantant
Wednesday, 11 June 2014

so lost I don't even know where to start


#1282 je veux voir flotter au vent un drapeau cent fois plus grand
Tuesday, 10 June 2014

I want to give up.

I'm sick of living day by day, knowing the inevitable is approaching. I'm sick of trying so hard, but knowing that it won't help at all. I'm sick of promising myself I'll do better, that it'll all work out in the end, only to be utterly stumped with a blank head when the day comes. I'm sick of telling myself it will somehow work out, of lying to myself although I know I am. I'm sick of feeling guilty when I read a book for fun, when I scroll through Tumblr, when I watch tv, when I have my meals. I'm sick of being trapped both at home and in my mind. I'm sick of seeing people living their ordinary work lives and feeling absolutely jealous of them. I'm sick of crying whenever this inundating sense of dread arrives. I'm sick of counting down the days, especially when each day feels like a millennium and when I have to somehow struggle through so much first. I'm sick of pretending to, of forcing myself to care. I'm sick of doing all this useless fucked up shit for the sake of my equally useless fucked up ambiguous future when all I want to do is to live in the now. I'm sick of thinking of what I should do after Nov 25 because it only makes me more miserable. I'm sick of ranting but I can't stop. 

I'm sick of this so-called education, this school, this country, this world, this screwed up, good-for-nothing life.

I want to give up.


#1281 vouloir arriver, toujours le premier, ça les rend analphabètes
Monday, 9 June 2014

to the ones who have found a group they can wholly dedicate themselves to;
to the ones who can look into the mirror and be happy with what they see;
to the ones who can be so laid-back yet consistently produce top results;
to the ones who are brave enough to chase their dreams;
to the ones who don't have to worry about scrimping;
to the ones who have found their niche;
to the ones who don't even have to try;
to the ones who fit in naturally;
to the ones who can smile -

you have no idea


#1280 pourquoi tant de courbettes et de sourires malhonnêtes

tired of vacillating. tired of reaping but not sowing. tired of breathing but not living. tired of waking up every morning only to wish for night again.


#1279 ils vont tout casser, on n'est pas aidé, mon dieu que les grands sont bêtes
Sunday, 8 June 2014

another 169 days of slow asphyxiation to go


#1278 qu'est-ce qu'elle fout ma planète, les hommes ont perdu la tête
Saturday, 7 June 2014

incompetent fool. you were actually thinking of finishing on time and sleeping early? when will you learn to stop thinking so highly of yourself?


#1277 car nos peines sont les mêmes
Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Every time I close my eyes or attempt a breather or let my mind drift, I end up getting really jittery and nervous and angry with myself. Which really sucks because I build castles in the air on an extremely frequent basis. I can't remember the last time I really took a break. A real break break. And I'm so tired of fretting. The pressure cooker has barely been turned on, the temperature of the water in the pot is barely lukewarm, the gun at the start of the marathon has barely been lifted--so why does it feel like my head has already imploded and here I am, scrambling to sew the pieces back together before someone hits the fast forward button?


#1276 nous apprenons par coeur, la démesure
Monday, 2 June 2014

holiday      /ˈhɒlɪdeɪ,-di/noun
an extended period of leisure and recreation, especially one spent away from home or in travelling.



auditory hallucinations

HAN YI
19 year old who still thinks she's 15.
Drowning in fandoms.
Hates auto-flushes and drains.
Has a non-existent nose bridge.
Can't live without rulers and letter openers.
Likes the taste of blood.
Control freak.
Loves fantastical stuff.
Aresian and proud.

155 cm
158 cm
Toms Vans
Cotton On Threadless
Fandom Shit
Impossible Dreams

And a million other things.

the aid-kit



the hobbit holes

the warp core
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