On the Illiterate Mind

The things that make me, me, that other people won't take seriously. The things that inspire me, that other people won't take seriously. But I guess I should write about myself here too. Name's Thomas, born November 8, 1996. Everything else you can make up.

Spotify, open. Speakers, on. 
okay, ready to listen to Mumford and Sons new album. Too excited right now! 

Hey guys… I’m so stressed right now. My junior year has just begun and I’m already tripping balls about college. Anyway, not here to bitch (well kinda), but actually on a information gathering binge. Anyone with some personal experience with the whole applying to college thing or any personal connection/experience with any of the following colleges: Boston College, Brown University, UC Berkeley, UCLA, University of Chicago, Macalester College, Reed College, or Vassar College, hit me up with some information? Thanksss

(Source: savinghyruleatm, via aestheticallychallenged)

Wow, I haven’t posted in a while.  So for all my avid followers (hahaha), I’m at camp.  It’s at Yale.  If you’re in the New Haven area and you want to meet me, I don’t care, that’s really creepy.  So anyway, I haven’t had much access to the computer lab, and I’ve had nothing to post. Waking up at 6 a.m. every morning is not a good way to get the brain juices flowing. 

Gotta say.  As great as Childish Gambino was in concert, his set order kinda sucked.

Parents:

Who are you texting?

Parents:

Who are you calling?

Parents:

Who are you chatting with?

Me:

Jake from State Farm.

natahn:

Summer Reading on Better Book Titles!

haha pretty good

(via batacinide)

Total mental breakdown. I just wanted to tear everything apart, just tear it to the ground. It took all the self control I could muster not to flip the table, not to throw the cabinet to the ground, not to hurl the computer out the window. It was bad. My skin was crawling, my leg was shaking. I just wanted to break anything I could get my hands on. Listened to some music and did my best to vent my anger, but it feels like I just don’t have an outlet anymore. I feel trapped. I want to break out but there’s nowhere to go. Breaking out just lead me back in. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. I can’t do anything. It’s like slow torture and until I get away, this state of mind is going to eat me alive.

“Yeah. That’s the thing about the spotlight, you know. Walk out into it and at first everybody thinks they see a good-lookin’ all-American hero. But then you stay out there long enough and you know, they start to notice certain things. Maybe your nose is a little crooked, you know, maybe your teeth are too crooked. Maybe you got a little scar on your upper lip. Your hair’s not right. One eye’s bigger than the other. Next thing ‘ya know they think they’re lookin’ at some kinda goddamn monster. Like they’re lookin’ at King Kong. Then they start throwin’ shit at ‘ya.”
—   Denis Leary, Rescue Me

“Should. That word, so like a corset, meant to bend us to the proper shape.”
—    The Sweet Far Thing, by Libba Bray (via shalott)

(Source: werisewiththesun, via decaying-organic-matter-deactiv)