(Source: nic0tine-kisses, via xosherry)

So, lately, I felt being wistful of HR positions. I dunno why, It’s like I wanted to switch careers with the Psychology students and be an HR. I just find their work fascinating. Luckily, I was hired as junior analyst in an international HR company. I am not an HR but my work revolves around the Human resource solutions, payrolls and benefits, etc. So I would be able to share with the glory of the HR people because, of course, primarily the company I am in is an HR company.

(Source: jizzymalfoy)

Jizzymalfoy:

I feel like running away but it seems to be the wrong time, my dizziness is on attack at the moment. I am starting to worry about myself, this frequent dizziness, I can no longer handle it. And I don’t wanted to go and see a doctor, for I mostly, don’t trust doctors. Maybe, I would just resort myself into taking several glasses of water, it used to work, anyway. Later, I know I would be fine.

(Source: leilockheart)

photografairy:

Maybe it doesn’t really matter if you wear your heart on your sleeve or if you lock it up in a box away from the world. In the end, everyone gets hurt.

(Source: supreme-asian, via katyperrykissedme)

Soon, friends I’ll show up.. I have been nagging by some of my friends for always ditching them.. I dunno, I am just too busy consuming myself up, not that I forgot about them, I miss them actually, my highschool buddies, really. I just don’t have the nerve to show up. I know, my social life is a death bed.

(Source: s-l-o-w-l-y-d-y-i-n-g, via no-place-like-london)

(Source: leahhkaye, via iamadek)

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Payphone- Maroon 5 featuring Wiz Khalifa

If happy ever after did exist
I would still be holding you like this
All those fairytales are full of sh*t
One more stupid love song I’ll be sick

(Source: jizzymalfoy)

by Mik of karenfelloutofbedagain

Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash your pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.

But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?

This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind. 

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. 

(Source: ranzafe)

kuyamac:

If a small thing has the power to make you angry, does that not indicate something about your size? ~Sydney J. Harris

This one is totally different from the usual vibes I put around here. I dunno if anybody actually reads my post, really, I wonder.

The past few days were some kind of exasperating. I have lost a bunch of hope in me, but the supply is back from it’s sick leave so no worries, damn those days, man. And I am sort of back on track, storms had passed and a lot more would come. I should always be vigilant, yeah, vigilant is the very word that had strike me tonight. It means to be some kind of alert, alert of whatever will come to me, and be alert of how I would respond to them.

God must be really serious of his business in me. I kept on stumbling, I was cold, selfish, stubborn, and a lot more. But it just seems that giving up is never in his vocabulary. I just could not contain the fact, that if not for him, I would not be alive until this day. I was, and is so weak, but he holds me in his right hand and tightened his grip a bit more. There is nothing else to do but surrender.

Five years ago, I made a decision, to know him and to let him in and be part of my life. I was not aware of everything else, or of how serious the decision I have made is. But that was the beginning of the unknown race God had put me in. I am still on the run, and I am sure I will be able to reach the end of this race with all the delights in my heart, at any rate, for God will take care of everything, and as I run I am actually at rest in him, for he is actually the one at work.

This is exactly what the phrase, “live life to the fullest” means.. No worries at all..

(via iamadek)

Alysha Speer  (via thewonderfulsideofme)

(Source: creatingaquietmind, via twistedtheory)

No worries. All good vibes.