Chase the Verve

Time to go to bed.

nightmarebc:

erinthesails:

That weird inbetween time of night where all the Americans have finally gone to bed but none of the Brits are up yet so literally everyone’s dashes are completely dead

We call this “Australia owns the internet” time.

heronqueenblues:

I think I just wanted to be a “profound” writer and then I realized really profound writers just wrote what they wanted to write and it happened to be profound so I’ll try doing that because it’s more fun anyways and hopefully I stumble into something really meaningful

hhawkeye:

if i worked at subway i’d wink suggestively every time a customer asked for a footlong

atomsdontexist:

I always like seeing the kids’ lunchboxes, everytime I think ‘they are so loved!’

First of all, they have really good looking lunchboxes, and a matching lunchbox bag. 

10am is fruit snack time. So they’d have say, a box of strawberry halves with the tops cut off, a box of mandarin all peeled and each piece separated, or for one kid, her favourite: a ziplock bag of red capsicum pieces.

11am is recess, and this is when you love capitalism because there are so many cool snacks for kids! Tubs of yoghurt, sticks of cheese, rolled out fruit lollies, tubes of jelly, slices of chocolate cake, giant cookies, all packaged bright and colourful, sometimes with cartoons on them. 

1.30pm lunch, a sandwich cut in triangles- vegemite with the crusts cut off, bacon and egg in toast, ham and cheese- and a juice or flavoured milk box. 

What an excellent way to say I love you. 

and immediately i was struck with a sense of attraction. Not like that. No I mean the type that just controls your attention like a child tugs at a parents sleeves. It’s probably happened to you before, on a bus, the line for a cinema or some other everyday place and for some strange reason your mind becomes centered around somebody else that isn’t you for a short period of time.

Just then my mind could have woven narratives about any aspect of her life, the way her blue headphones framed her brown hair or the punchy yellow of her sweater, the way her mouth seemed to quiver before she spoke. Maybe she was cold in the winter melbourne weather and felt like eating something. Maybe she was on the way to the city and just needed lunch.

Out of all these unknowns there was one fact and that was her hands were covered in red and brown splotchy bruises and her wrists were painted in red self-inflicted lines when she paid for the order.

When was the last time you felt genuinely miserable through empathy? I did the other day and it didn’t last long but it was real and it was terrifying and I don’t think I will ever forget the girl who commanded my attention or her crisscrossed wrists.

I won’t see her ever again.