shorty-gray
Who knows? Who cares?
624 posts
Shorty Gray, 25yo, Slovakia | now based in Prague, Czech Republic | a lone wolf, affected by full moon, trying to understand the universe | dark, sarcastic, yet still funny high-functioning sociopath |
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shorty-gray · 4 years ago
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fire eyes 🔥 (at Prague, Czech Republic) https://www.instagram.com/p/CK6g7DZAvxp/?igshid=rtiuyl36y7ez
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shorty-gray · 5 years ago
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Leica did on Huawei P20 Pro's camera such a great job. just a little trying of macro ✨ (na mieste Prague) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1mQvhdoeps/?igshid=1tg0uaapzcszm
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shorty-gray · 5 years ago
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I kinda miss my blonde hair (na mieste Prague, Czech Republic) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1jdXVbInnn/?igshid=fweumvkngx4u
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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Thank god tears are transparent so you can cry to your pillow without anybody noticing.
#sad #tears #anxiety #crying #lost #ptsd #depression #hopeless #night
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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bedroom thoughts
home. a feeling or a place. no one really knows. when I close my eyes, I hear the ocean waves. I feel the sun beating on my face and the sand beneath my feet. I hear the seagulls play their favorite songs but then the dark clouds roll in. and it’s in that moment I realize how truly alone I am.
when I was a little girl, I constantly dreamed about my fairytale. I believed in a happily ever after. I’m not sure when I stopped dreaming or believing. maybe I’ve lost all hope. I’ve been locked away in this tower my whole life and no one has yet to find me. and anyone who has come close hasn’t been able to love me the way I need them too. I associate love with pain because that’s the only thing I know. I don’t truly know love. I only know this concept of it that I’ve made up in my head. and I understand that it isn’t real. but it’s the only thing I have to cling too because I have to believe in something. I can say I don’t a million times but I’d only be lying to myself. I still believe in love. even if the only love I’ve been shown is tainted or wrong. I have to keep believing because the thought of anything less is unbearable.
It is so very draining thinking the same things and feelings unwilling to change. It’s like a broken record that won’t stop playing. The first part of the song is perfect but then you get to the middle and the skipping begins. except you let it keep playing because you believe the rest of the record is ok. it’s only that little part that’s damaged. but the longer you wait, nothing changes. regardless, you still believe that it’ll stop skipping because as long as the song keeps playing, everything will be ok.
There is a solution that will present itself when it’s time. you just have to keep playing the song and hold out for the best part. the reward is worth the pain. it has to be. nobody would go through this willingly. self inflicted pain. where’s the gain ? …
where’s my song at now ? I’m in the part where I’m surrounded by fake love. A convenient love that is never there when needed. deep enough to leave a stain to be seen but shallow enough to eventually be washed away. the cruelest of mind tricks. now you see me and now you don’t. the wonderland of feelings. not knowing up from down or down from up. giving your whole self just to be returned like an unwanted item from a department store. a book bought but never opened. The reader never being able to enjoy that new book smell. and the book being hidden away under a pile of clothes in the corner of the room, long forgotten. the chances you decided to take because you believed in a moment. a fleeting moment. a shooting star that races across the sky. you blink and it’s gone.
that was our moment. and with each day that passes after, the memory fades until all that’s left is a blurry screen. a cable show interrupted by the rain. your morning eyes when the colors all blend.
then the question of sanity trickles in. did I make it up ? did I want it to be so bad that I made this make believe narrative in my head ? am I crazy ? why would I make up something so tragic ? something this tragic doesn’t belong in fairytales or stories. it belongs to life and it belongs to the choices we make. i know there’s hurt. i understand that it’s there but when I close my eyes, I choose to hear the ocean waves. to feel the sun beating on my skin and to hear the seagulls song. in this moment, I’m home. and this is where I choose to stay.
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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His eyes might not be the colour of the ocean, but I drown in them every time.
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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maybe i haven’t accepted the truth yet or maybe i’m still hoping that one day you might love me too. either way, i know i’m being stupid for still waiting despite all the things i’ve said but still got no response. i’m still going to wait though, to hear from you, at the same time i’ll try to slowly move on, go where the water will take me. so that’s that.
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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shorty-gray · 6 years ago
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be real with me about how you feel or get the fuck away 
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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follow for more :)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long 👩🏻 (na mieste Kosice, Slovakia)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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follow for more :)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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You need a private talk? Just message me !:)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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You need a private talk? Just message me !:)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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You need a private talk? Just message me !:)
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shorty-gray · 7 years ago
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Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need. First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind’s way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door. Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying ‘time heals all wounds’ is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door. Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind. Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.
The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss (via quotewithasource)
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