B. Y. E
do not fix your dark circles let the world know youre tired of its shit and ready to kill a man
Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.
William Saroyan (via teenager90s)
an important factual presentation by me
All the facts.
Cleopatra was Macedonian. Her ancestors came from Macedonia when Alexander the Great conquered Egypt. This was a very important event in world history that you should know about. Even Zahi Hawass, the foremost Egyptologist in the world and Egyptian himself, says Cleopatra was not Egyptian and he undoubtedly know more about it than you do.
Here are some images of busts of Cleopatra:
And here is an image of some Macedonian ladies doing ethnic Macedonian things in the Balkans, where they are from:
This is The Balkans, it’s in Eastern Europe. The former Macedonia is right there in the center of White People land:
I hope this post has helped cure some of your ignorance about history!
PS I left out the part about how Egyptian temple paintings and carvings were stylized and weren’t meant to actually look like the people portrayed but were more symbolic in nature because i didn’t think you could handle that much truth in one sitting.
they literally could have used ANYONE ELSE as their example and it would have been valid but no they picked Cleopatra
What if I told you 10 years from now your life would be exactly the same?
Doubt you’d be happy.
So, why are you afraid of change?
Karen Salmansohn (via psych-quotes)
Delete her number.
Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.
Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.
She loves you.
She has been in love with you for too long.
So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts.
Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her.
Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment.
Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it.
What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you.
Doggedly loyal to you.
That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reach out to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard?
She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now.
But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.
Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, A New Leaf (via feellng)