my little corner of the universe

midnight sn(ippets)acking

I’m pretty sure it isn’t that I don’t give any fucks anymore, but rather I’ve learned to be selective with my vices. 

I used to wonder why do people say “stay on your grind.” For a while I thought it was cool to have an equal amount of work and play, because at the end of the day the manifestation of one’s “grindin” is just powder, dust, dirt, whatever… same result right? WRONG. Looking at the bigger picture, I’m grindin every day so that I can pulverize enough to leave my mark in this world. The grand canyon wasn’t carved in a day, so I may be pretty fucking tired, and it is rather unfortunately that no one’s going to give me a free lift to the top… but back to studying it is.

Keep it easy folkssssss.

Shiny things often pique our interest—but we often approach with caution, knowing that all that glitters is often not gold… but it is almost instinct for our hearts to race and our stomachs to drop when we catch glimpses of bright flashes behind our trajectory, i.e. flashing lights to an impending speeding ticket/DUI. So is an emotional response to something in our pasts simply innate? 

A Work In Progress: crown-of-beauty: If you’ve ever prayed and asked God to heal you or...

I’m chillin

I hate people.

But I’m done wasting my time on em.

Do you, cuz I’m doin me and I’m all g

for fuckin real,

Love and be loved

The only constant in life is change—and tabulating one’s losses via calculus; when taking the derivative of a constant… well the constant doesn’t really matter anymore. 

If derivative comes from derive which means to receive or obtain from a source or origin…  does that mean the origin of consistency doesn’t exist… or at least, even matter?

So why then should we even care about a constant in our lives, when the origin of a constant is nothing more than a dead end? A constant can’t stand for anything anymore. Nothing isn’t the same as it was, because it was simply “was”, and is not “is.”

I guess, maybe I’m not the girl you fell in love with. And you’re not the boy I fell in love with. But I still love you, not for what you are, but who you are, past the bullshit.

“I love you for who you were, who you are and who you are yet to be.”

I got mad love for myself, but boundless, limitless, crazy psycho bitch love for my bear. And I don’t think anything can change that.