My reaction every time I go shopping.
I could cry from this.
My reaction to everything in every department store ever.
(via spongebobssquarepants)
Okay, now listen to me. Yes, Promethea’s a fiction. Nobody ever claimed otherwise. I never lied. I’m at least an honest fiction. A true fiction. A fiction that can enter your dreams, possess her creators, talk to you through them. I’m an idea, but I’m a real idea. I’m the idea of human imagination… which when you think about it, is the only thing we can be really certain isn’t imaginary.
No, don’t say anything. Just hold my hand and listen. Your hand’s warm, that’s nice. It makes this all sort of girlfriendly. See, I’m imagination. I’m real, and the best friend you ever had. Who do you think got you all this cool stuff? The clothes you’re wearing, the room, the house, the city you’re in. Everything in it started out in the human imagination. Your lives, your personalities, your whole world, all invented. All made up. All the wars, the romances, the masterpieces and machines. And there’s nothing but a funny little twist of amino acids, playing a marvelous game of pretend. Nothing here but me and you. Me and you, little life snake, by the fire where we’ve always been since this room was a cave. Do you remember? When you first thought you saw things in the flames, the dancing shadows… and you needed me to tell you a tale. A story grand and glorious.
“I have eyes that see, I have a mind that thinks
I have a mouth that speaks, and god damn it will
Because I have had enough of all this shit about
“Making do” “Playing ball” “The way things were” and “Dealing with it”
Mixing pop and politics he asks me what the use is
I’m not into making excuses
And I die the day I find I’m fucking useless“
(via out-of-spite)
thisguyknowswhatimtalkingabout:
The price of mozzarella sticks is the only proof I have that we aren’t in the best possible timeline