Imagine If You Were The Angriest, Most Passionate Hater In The Universe, And You Died(?) And A Pagan

I don’t like being referred to as a boy

i have not stopped thinking about this goodreads review for a MOMENT since i read it. it pingpongs in my head at all times. yesterday i walked into the kitchen and i realized i hadn't washed the pot from the night before, and said coldly, "the work of a sad little man who needs to see the ocean." unreal. i know i am changed.

“What was archaeology to him? It was the opposite of killing things. It was trying to will life back into stuff that had been forgotten and buried for thousands or millions of years. It was not about shards and pieces of bone or treasure; it was about kneeling down in the elements, paying very close attention, and trying to locate a spark of the human life that had once touched that spot there.”

— Marilyn Johnson, Lives in Ruins: Archaeologists and the Seductive Lure of Human Rubble

THE devotionshipping trope is "are they loyal to me or to my title" and the answer HAS to be that they genuinely don't differentiate between the two and are confused and slightly alarmed by the question

I can't stress enough how much I miss StumbleUpon

“Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?”

— Charles D’Ambrosio, The Dead Fish Museum: Stories

seen a lot of these with your favorites, but reblog with the CURRENT book you are reading, show you are streaming, the last movie you watched, and any game/puzzle/crafts you’re working on 

every day I wake up and it’s fucking january

Guys I don’t think I want the body to keep the score anymore