Hi, I'm Tam, I'm 18. I'm a hopeless romantic. I like practicing yoga, and crawling into dark spaces, and smiling to myself. I like pandas, and jellyfish, and hedgehogs. Enjoy my blog
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a beautiful song! written and performed by a very talented musician.
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i’ve started typing two things.
and neither were anything.
so i deleted them both.
it feels
weird
creating something
then taking it away.
knowing that it will soon be forgotten by yourself
and that no one else will ever know
it was ever there.
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Suzanne by Hope Sandoval & the Warm Inventions
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Nothing But The Blur of Travelling Time Jack Hardwicke
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What frightened him (though sometimes calmed him) was the first of those thoughts, about not knowing how to be happy; there was something irreversible about it, except possibly by potion or true love, like in every movie by Disney, as it was like a fairy tale in that sketched-out, theoretical way. But it was a fairy tale gone wrong, without any domestic whimsy or fast-moving plot, and in real time, without any pleasant summations of long periods of despair, loneliness, and ennui. It just didn’t seem good, or allowed. It felt off-limits or something. Was this for real? Andrew had forgotten how to be happy! He suspected that it involved unwarranted feelings of fondness for other people, too much self-esteem, a sort of long-term delusion that manifested as charisma, and a blocking out of certain things, like lonely people, depressed people, desperate people, homeless people, people you’ve hurt, people you like who don’t like you, politics, the nature of being and existence, the continent of Africa, the meat industry, McDonald’s, MTV, Hollywood, and most or all of human history, especially anything having to do with the Western Hemisphere between 1400 and 1900, plus or minus 200 years—but he wasn’t sure. Why did it involve so many things? Maybe it was just too hard.
Tao Lin, Eeeee Eee Eeee (via buzzyrgfwoof)
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