Hi, I'm phil, old enough to not tell you my age.

An IT graduate. A future nomad. Occasionally neurotic. Frustrated 'writer'
Socially inept.

rants, useless knowledge, pictures, and other arbitrary shit are the stuff that you can find here.
August 6th
8:30 PM

whatever

August 4th
11:15 AM

unfair

Quite unfair how when some people have fun. They have fun; forgetting that you even exist.

But when they have a bad day. It seems that they pour it all on you too.

Normally, I just let it pass. But sometimes it gets to me too.

I mean what do you think am I? Am I really just a stress pillow? :(

March 30th
4:08 AM
Via
"It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind."
—  Naguib Mahfouz (via oofpoetry)
March 3rd
7:19 AM

You said it in a simple way,
4 AM, the second day,
How strange that I don’t know you at all.
Stumbled through the long goodbye,
One last kiss, then catch your flight,
Right when I was just about to fall

I told myself don’t get attached,
But in my mind I play it back,
Spinning faster than the plane that took you…

And this is when the feeling sinks in,
I don’t wanna miss you like this,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.
I guess you’re in New York today,
I don’t wanna need you this way,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.

The delicate beginning rush,
The feeling you can know so much,
Without knowing anything at all.
And now that I can put this down,
If I had known what I’d known now,
I never would have played so nonchalant.

Taxi cabs and busy streets,
That never bring you back to me,
I can’t help but wish you took me with you…

And this is when the feeling sinks in,
I don’t wanna miss you like this,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.
I guess you’re in London today,
I don’t wanna need you this way,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.

This is falling in love in the cruelest way,
This is falling for you and you are worlds away.

New York… be here.
But you’re in London and I break down,
'Cause it's not fair that you're not around.

This is when the feeling sinks in,
I don’t wanna miss you like this,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.
I guess you’re in New York today,
And I don’t wanna need you this way,
Come back… be here, come back… be here.

I don’t wanna miss you like this.
Come back… be here.
Come back… be here.

 

January 12th
9:49 AM
"He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry."
—  The Book Theif
January 9th
8:48 AM
Via
There was a time in my life that I seriously thought that I’d have my shit together by this time.

There was a time in my life that I seriously thought that I’d have my shit together by this time.

January 4th
11:58 PM

You’re racing for tomorrow, 

Not finished with today…

Then you stumble on tomorrow, 

And trip over today

January 3rd
12:36 AM
Via

dissections: on being considered shy

People tell me that I’m shy. And I immediately want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them hard, say No I’m not shy, I’m just so full of everything and all these feelings are threatening to spill over and out between my ribs. I want to tell them, I’m quiet even though I have so much to say; I just don’t know how to say it.

Some days I feel as if the moon lives inside my skin. There’s all this luminescence, this brilliance inside of me struggling to get out. And my skin is just splitting at the seams all the time, stretching and tearing and breaking, but the moon can never get out. My heart is just a satellite traveling on a constant orbit around and around the cage of my bones and every night all I want is for it to run out of gas and crash so that all the feelings will spill out like fuel. The moon is there and it’s burning white-hot like a cigarette, it’s made of molecules and blood and it’s consuming me like a fire. I want to grab a complete stranger’s body in my hands and kiss their mouth till we both turn numb, look into their eyes and see their soul.

I’m not shy; I just sit down at the dinner table and forget what to say. I can pass the mashed potatoes or the butter but I can’t put my feelings on a platter and pass them to my father, and I can’t ask for my mother’s in return. I can ride a bike and take a photograph and write a poem, but I can’t look someone in the face and say, I love you. I always have and always will, and I am so in love with you I can barely speak. And I can play the violin and run through the streets at midnight without caring who sees me, but I can’t tear apart my soul like an orange and rip all the layers off or expose all the tendons and muscles beneath the skin.

My teachers tell my parents I could benefit from raising my hand more in class. I want to tell my teachers they could benefit more from trying to get to know me. Ask me who I am and I’ll be yours forever. Hook your arm around my neck and bring your mouth to mine and if you kiss me a paragraph I’ll reply with a novel. I speak in touches and quick glances and smiles, not words.

My heart’s on an elevator and it doesn’t know what floor to get off on. My heart’s locked up in a cage and someone’s thrown away the key. My heart’s a willow tree that sobs gently in the rain until the birds move amongst its branches.

Sometimes I want to get drunk and there’s vodka in the cupboard and whiskey too, and I want a gin without ice and a scotch on the rocks but there are plates in the cupboard too and I want to smash them, I want to throw every single one against the wall until they shatter. I want to shatter too. I want to disappear.

I catch snow in my mouth in winter and try to braid snowflakes in my hair. I want to run until I’m out of breath. All these things I can do, but I can’t speak to you.

I’m not shy; I just don’t know how to tell you that I am so full I might burst. And I am not shy; I just have more feelings than there are languages in the world.

January 2nd
8:57 AM

havin a swell time.

When I try to move too much/stand. Everything spins. god. What a way to start the new year.

Starving and the kitchen’s too far away. I think I’m going to die. oh well… going back to sleep.

 

January 1st
3:34 AM
"It’s funny how someone can shatter your heart, but you still love them with all the little pieces…"
—  (seen from a youtube comment)
December 26th
10:35 AM
Via
"People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel like that they don’t deserve them, or that they’ll be unable to achieve them. We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but weren’t, or of treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because, when these things happen, we suffer terribly."
—  (via thenineteenthsecond)
December 19th
6:02 PM
"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened… or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on."
December 13th
7:45 AM

So it is said that anger and spite breeds the same; both in yourself and in others.

Sad to say, so is envy and longing.

I’m hating the ber months more and more each year.

big shit always happen.

Particularly December.

wake me up when this year ends. :(

December 4th
10:26 AM
Via
December 2nd
6:33 AM
Via
This is Grýla, an Icelandic monster who ate bad children before Christmas.

You better not shout,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
Or an Icelandic monster will fucking eat you.

The mom doesn’t even look panicked she’s just “Sigh. Goddamn it Jimmy I fucking told you.”

This is Grýla, an Icelandic monster who ate bad children before Christmas.


You better not shout,

You better not cry,

You better not pout,

Or an Icelandic monster will fucking eat you.


The mom doesn’t even look panicked she’s just “Sigh. Goddamn it Jimmy I fucking told you.”