reinventing rogue realities since 1994.

Name's aris. 19940218.
I'm kinda pathetic.

I don't always follow back, but I still interact with people.

Welcome to my little corner of Alternity.

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very unstable . pretty erratic . slightly hedonistic

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Posts tagged morphine

13. Beating yourself up even further inside because you know that you’re bottling toxic sentiments up and need to speak your mind, but have failed to do so. Now not only are you mad at the world, but you’re shaming and being hard on yourself.
I like storms. They let me know that even the sky screams too.

(via wofew)

(via xkcd

squid314: The Story of Emily and Control 

(Source: elguindilla)


Eric Fonteneau - The Library (2006)

The books in Fonteneau’s library aren’t books; the above are charcoal-on-paper-on-wood drawings of books, “playing with the idea of real versus imagined and memory versus record”.

Am I the only one who finds this creepy? and a little bit frightening? and very much unsettling?

(Source: likeafieldmouse)

No Fear of Flying: Kamikaze Missions in Death, Sex, and Comedy: No Mas. 

On a bright-eyed March morning, I opened an email from this woman with cautious optimism, thinking she was set to give birth in the next few weeks, wondering how she was doing, hoping we could perhaps mend fences. Instead of good tidings, though, there was unfathomable sadness, described matter-of-factly over the Internet: Three weeks earlier, after weeks of nesting, getting their house ready, my friend had stopped feeling the baby move inside her. She had gone to her doctor and to the hospital for tests. They could detect no heartbeat. The baby, it was determined, had died. They induced labor at 36 weeks into her pregnancy. My friend gave birth to a stillborn son who she and her husband held and named Henry. Spontaneous fetal death, they called it. Autopsy showed no reason, gave no comfort. Since it happened, my friend had been hiding in quiet, taking long walks. She couldn’t find words to speak about it. She wondered if I had any insight into talking with others about Henry, helping them to feel better. For my friend and her second child, I wept my eyes dry and sobbed my throat raw. When she and I finally spoke, I told her that I was certain there were no words that could help; no words she could speak that would make others feel better, not yet anyway. She should rest in the quiet if it brought her comfort. And I would be there in the quiet with her if she wanted. We were sisters once more, bound by unimaginable loss. 

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This really scares me…

(Source: fuckyeahmedicalstuff)

You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning, do you?

Jodi Picoult  (via cityyandcolour)

(Source: kari-shma)

290 plays


The National - Conversation 16

When I said what I said I didn’t mean anything

(Source: atranscriptofheartbreak)

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