...and then a hand, you will never know whose hand, pulls down the shade. And there you are, outside. And there I was, outside.
female, 20, Berlin, someone who is not all of one piece, but rather someone who is made up of shreds and patches and old cogwheels held together with pieces of rusty barbed wire and spit and bits of string, like most of us.
You’re a shelf of books with out the pages,
a wealth of thoughts locked up in cages.
So if blood runs through your veins,
don’t you suppose it’s such a waste
to be composed in such a way?
(they cheer me up, ok?)
meep: iDon'tLikeYourTurtlePuppet
I’m a very particular man; I like to have things a certain way. I’d rather live alone than try to accommodate someone who doesn’t understand that. I can’t change and I accept that’s the way it is and always will be.
Kent: Do you do this every night, sir?
Chandler: What? No, of course not…That would be strange…
Posted 4 months ago, with 45 notes
