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Game of Thrones Daily

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One Nice Bug Per Day
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
๐
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Aqua Utopia๏ฝๆตทใฎๅบใง่จๆถใ็ดกใ
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blake kathryn
occasionally subtle
KIROKAZE
๐ชผ

shark vs the universe
art blog(derogatory)

Andulka
sheepfilms
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Cosmic Funnies

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@skaterchick66

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Dustin Kalynukย ย
literally me every morning when my boo goes to work at 3am
I don't like how my brain's wired.
How my emotions connect to my memories connect to my subconscious.
What are the first 3 things on your mind when you rise for another day?
Probably ain't the same as me.
I'm quite an embarrassment, really, how I let my emotions control my way of thinking.
And I don't even fight it.
Maybe I'm sick enough to where I like how this feels.
Twist the blade a little bit more & maybe I'll finally break.
What can be my excuse today?
What can be my reason for keeping myself locked away?
In my own little corner of the world where eventually everyone will forget about me.
So if I stay here, it won't matter what I miss or what I don't see.
Because maybe I don't want to see anything.
& maybe I don't care if I miss anything.
I don't like how my brain's wired.
Memories & miscommunications & masochistic self-doubt.
Wallowing in my own self pity until my heart can't break.
I won't let anyone else this deep in, they only need to see the surface.
Because in the end who am I to expect help for something like this?
Something that doesn't make sense.
Something that doesn't feel right.
& something I've been living with for endless, dreadful days.
I don't like how my brain's wired.
How my emotions connect to my memories connect to my subconscious.
I'm tired.

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i just got a mix of all of them
ยฐ here I am, once again,
I'm torn into pieces.
can't deny it, can't pretend;
just thought you were the one.
broken up, deep inside...
but you won't get to see these tears I cry ยฐ

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โShe thought she was independent and strong, but she got one small taste of love and she was hungrier than anyone.โ
โ Ann Brashares (via nitrogen)
โMake sure you donโt start seeing yourself through the eyes of those who donโt value you. Know your worth even if they donโt.โ
โ Thema Davis
New Bones
We see them through the birdโs eye:
drifter of dunes, traverser of the orange sea.
That fleck of humanity is ours:
an ant in our sandbox, like a lone star in
an inverted sky.
We circle them, fix them
in the telescope of our mind
with piqued curiosity:
maladapted form of
urban descent; product of smoke;
guardian of stone labyrinths and
metal skeletons that frame
the mirror worlds.
This is not their land.
Here, under the glaring fireball, over
the dragonโs gold, they are outflanked by
the sidewinder, stalked by the abrasive wind,
overlooked by wagering angels
who mark, already, the end of their trail with
its shimmering mirage.
The oldest of magic presides here:
each grain of sand โ a relic of an
ancient spell that was cast to accelerate
lifeโs precocity and ensure these
final conditions were met.
There is no escape.
No.
We see them through the birdโs eye but
we are not the bird.
We are the one who wanders
across the desert of our mind;
the one we see, who staggers
through the wastes of imagination
towards that long awaited promise of becoming
new bones.

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