Being A Young Adult Is So Strange. You Enter A Coffee Shop. The 20 Year Old Girl Waiting Behind You Cried

just when I think this guy couldn't be any more perfect GAWD WHY DO YOU MAKE ME SUFFER my heart is filled w love for him and him only oh whatever I'd do to be that pup rn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

nakitty with his new puppy friend 🐶

bonus:

Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.

— Meša Selimović

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

obsessed with the way that gothic horror is about horror but never directly. it’s not horrific because there’s a haunted house and that’s scary, it’s horrific because the monster isn’t a monster, it’s your grief, your loss, your pride, your desire, your fear. the monster skulking in the shadows, the darkness at the edge of the woods, the haunted house that is too broken to be a home—those are manifestations of events that grabbed onto the fabric of time in a fit of abject horror and clamped down so tightly that they couldn’t keep moving forward toward resolution and eventual dissipation like they were supposed to. it’s all about the scared child and the mourning mother and the hunger in your gut and the little emptiness in your chest at the end of the day. those things are all little horrors but you can’t approach them directly to understand them, so gothic horror gives us these little metaphors and says “here play with these for a while and see what you find.” and all of those metaphors need someone to go back to childhood to release them. you have to care, and be curious and clever, and look for a way to heal the hurt. you have to be so achingly human to survive in gothic horror

For the moment I am really very, very tired of everything — more than tired.

— Friedrich Nietzsche

Please be with me so it can be fuller and prettier

"When life gives you lemons, save it. You never know when you'll need it to throw at someone's face."

- Ris, @crystal-snow019

How are you feeling?

"i can't sleep."

you look away from your book to find a disheveled jihoon standing at the doorway. his eyes seem blood-shot red; his pajamas are crumpled; his hair points out in every direction, defying even the laws of physics and he holds a pillow in his hands.

you never imagined a day you'd see your roommate like this.

even with the initial shock, you keep the book aside and smile and beckon him over. he wordlessly wobbles over and climbs onto your bed. you pat your lap. he hesitates for a moment before gently laying his head on your lap. you immediately start to play with his hair.

"is there anything bothering you?" you ask him. you know he's a busy man — with his classes and music production, he barely even gets time to eat or sleep or stays home. opportunities like these should be seized, you know?

he still doesn't say anything, resorting to shaking his head into a 'no'. you continue to comb through his hair, removing any tangles you find.

"tell me about your day..." he starts out of nowhere. you hum as you remember all the events of the day.

"it was pretty much like usual, I guess. all the classes and stuff- oh! did you know? seungkwan spilled his americano today," you say in between giggles — the incident was way too comical.

"how?"

"it was soonyoung who spilled it. he was imitating seungkwan to a few of their juniors when kwan showed up behind him with his coffee. one elbow lift and baam, everything went flying. you know what's funny, kwan was wearing a white shirt," you start laughing again, tears threatening to escape. soonyoung's and seungkwan's shenanigans have always been your group's free entertainment. everyday was a new episode.

"don't go asking about this to kwan tho, he'll just end me..."

and that's when you notice a cute jihoon curled up into a ball, quiet snores escaping from him. a little string of drool at the corner of his lips. the sight is so endearing, you try to hold yourself back from capturing it.

but you end up taking it anyway. anything for a little blackmail material.

She talked about books with so much passion that you wanted to be nothing but the character she had so insanely fallen in love with.