hurtbythedinosaur asked: Can you send a selfie? It would make my day (:
I’ve been quiet. I click “next” on my tumblr page and I’ve reached the summer. I haven’t gone through more than 10 pages of tumblr since mid-August. I go multiple days without tweeting.
All of this…and I think something is wrong.
Sick. Sick how I think it’s wrong that I no longer waste my time scrolling through tumblr. Sick how I think it’s wrong that I don’t update people on my life all the time. I don’t need that validation anymore. I don’t need recognition.
Transcendence. I’ve reached it.
"Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime."
— Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (via seananigans)
I am happiest when everyone is asleep.
It’s been a really long time since I’ve laughed so hard that my sides hurt and I couldn’t breathe.