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You know originally democracy had this feature where if the government stopped representing the people we'd all get together and kill everyone in charge

being poor is traumatic. even if you’re not homeless or starving. never being able to get anything nice for yourself, never being able to go out to eat without feeling guilty, never being able to do anything fun that isn’t free, making you housebound in bad weather because you can’t afford to go to a cafe or a movie. it takes a toll. being poor under capitalism makes your life a waking nightmare. this post must be reblogged by everyone.

The pictures might make it seem like a slow process, but this really happens very rapidly in just a few seconds

One just hit me

I once heard that this is your brain randomly zapping you with electrical signals to make sure you’re not dead. Not sure if that’s true.

My brain, seeing if I’m alive or dead: VIBE CHECK!!!

I finally understand about Americans and Halloween

best sleeping conditions: freezing fucking cold room but layers and layers of blankets 

this speaks to me.

Scientifically, it’s because sleeping in a cooler environment (freezing cold room) and also sleeping under some physical pressure (blankets) - especially of you have anxiety and/or insomnia - is actually the most ideal sleeping condition.

My life

#wow it’s nice to be scientifically validated

AND sticking your nose out from under the blankets to feel that cold air while the rest of your body is warm and comfy !

Like literally cocooning yourself in blankets so that there is like a three-inch hole around your nose and mouth so you can breathe the good Cold Airs and everything else is covered.

ethically consume this pussy

My college essay - by Ezekiel Figuero. Dear Yale Admissions Board,  My name is Ezekiel Figuero. To grow up in the ghetto is to wrestle daily with dichotomy and duality.  For example, I’m an orphan, half black and half Puerto Rican. And these shoes I put feet in and the place that I’m seated ain’t where I’m sleeping. Where I break bread and at night lay my head you might wake up dead. That’s just the South Bronx, B. But I’m not just Bronx. I’m Manhattan also, see? And I wonder, when they look, what my coworkers make of me. Mayor Koch, he only saw half. Voice of the ghetto is what he sold me as. But look closely, Yale, past tragedy. Because my home is fucking magic. No. The borough where I’m from ain’t the slums. We got kingdoms and kings. And that’s what I’ll be, my friends and me. There’s Ra-Ra, the oracle. The guru, the all-seeing eye. Boo-Boo, he’s the wild one. And the heart of the group Dizzee, he’s public enemy number one. Which is funny ‘Cause he’s really just an artist And then there’s my DJ Spinning faster than a speeding bullet Cutting records smoother than silk Able to rock any party Anywhere, anytime Shaolin Fantastic. Real life superhero. And turntable extraordinaire. And then there’s me: The Wordsmith. My best friend Shao is a drug dealer, and I’m his wordsmith. I love my best friend, but hate his hustle. But I don’t wanna live in a place where every opportunity come with strings attached, and I think it might be different at Yale. I ought to tell him, warn him that my ship will set sail.'Cause I’m not just Bronx, I’m Manhattan also, see? That’s the story, Yale. That’s my tale. My life is a dichotomy, and both my lives are true. Part scholar who could go far. Yeah, part budding ghetto superstar. And on the one hand, I so badly want you, Yale, and so this is my desperate plea. But on the other hand, I know what I can do for you, Yale. But tell me one more time, what exactly you could do for me?  I’m Ezekiel Figuero. And I ask respectfully.  Peace.