Me: Okay Time To Go To Slee-

me: okay time to go to slee-

my brain: in the sign of the four, holmes professes decisively that he will never marry, lest it clouds his judgment, nor will he ever love. in later stories, however, we see him saying things like "should i ever marry" or "should i ever have a son". he seems to have become quietly more open to the possibility of love ever since his relationship with watson flourished because watson makes holmes believe in love

me, crying: fuck you

Quino (1932–2020)

Foto: Reuters

originally scrapped this but it’s still a little funny, so here. tag yourself im from the arts dep

"When you fight you are like the light.

You shine so bright that we can't do anything but look.

And we see how you're born, and we see how you grow, and we see how you die.

But we fight like the shadows.

You never pay us attention even when you know we are there.

We never seem to have won nor do we seem to be defeated. We never seem to have gain nor lose anything.

And so you don't look at us, and so you forget about us.

And it is only in your final moments, when you see how we remain the same while you are dying that you realise. We've won, we've survived, we are the last ones standing."

Blond people

The first time that England hated blond people was also the first time that he hated himself. He was running, trying to catch his brothers and he wondered "is this the meaning of family?" "helplessly trying to be loved?". He got his answer hours later when they try to drown him for the first time. That is when he saw it. His reflection on the river. He saw his green eyes, his pale skin and his blond hair. He saw everything that he wasn't and everything that he should be. And then he hated himself. And then he blamed himself. He blamed on himself that his brothers didn't love him, he blamed on himself that he could never have a family, he blamed on himself that his mother always looked at him pity. And then he hated his brothers. And then hated what it meant to live.

Midnight rambling

I love her like i love the salt in my food

(Yes this is a reference to a little story)

I love her like I love the music that plays in my house in the middle of the night

(It’s usually Queen or Coldplay)

I miss her like I miss my grandfather

(He is someone I’ve never met)

I miss her like that book I never found again

(It was a story about a little fox)

I hate her like I hate the taste of fish

(I sometimes throw it into the trash can when my parents aren’t looking)

I hate her like I hate social gatherings

(I always suffer panic attacks)

I miss the version of myself that exists when I’m around her but i hate it too.