i have no wishes. i just want to understand.

she absolutely adores you

take me

we are comfortable in our insecurity

our memories are stored in our feet

now i have to make the damn thing

sprint for the cruiser hoping to God the seniors dont mistake you for a pint of guiness. welcome to senior week.

you can't make something mean something.

o nightmare seeker,
why do you lick the wounds
of a bleeding heart
with lemon salt?

what happens in the world stays in the world
except for cosmic transformations of the heart
worthy of shame or praise on a fated Day

bury it
i wont let you bury it
i wont let you smother it
i wont let you murder it
our time is running out
our time is running out
you can't push it underground
you cant stop it screaming out
how did it come to this?
-muse

I saw your nightmares heaving in the dark
memories swelling under covers
I am the Keeper of Dreams

motion with intention is power.
motion without intention is chaos.

that scene could have been perfect. each character could have hit just the right beat. instead it plays bitterly. it's the moment to yell "cut!" and give the actors their adjustments. but you can't. because they're your friends. this is reality, and there is no take 2.

bc when it rains no one can see you cry

Muslims are such baggage, shoot me now.

People think I have some deep spiritual connection to the purpose of life. And so they trust me with all sorts of things:

Money.

Cars.

Babies.


I’m sure they believe I’m a decent human being.

If only I could prove them right. If only I could salvage a grain of sincerity in the shipwreck of my soul. That would be nice. Because I’m starting to think these people might care that I exist…

…and might discover what I really am.

weddings are so why bother

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

mochi makes life a little less bleak.

"muslims don't fall in love, they're only capable of experiencing lesser degrees of hate." - me pitching my doc in sound class.

at the end of each fantasy is heartbreak.

the Unwritten History of Night

Dear God, Nicholas Kristoff is so hot.

you have no right to my soul
you have no say in my destiny
you have no understanding of eternity