*stuffs Pani Puri Into Your Mouth* VIBE CHECKKK

being desi is realizing that every bollywood movie has the same plot as a Wattpad story written by a 16 year old.

I want a story about a king whose son is prophesied to kill him so the king is like “whatever what am I supposed to do, kill my own kid wtf is wrong with you” so he just raises him as normal, doesn’t even tell him about the prophecy, and instead of some convoluted twist of events that leads to the king’s murder the son grows up and when the king is very old and dying and in excruciating pain the kid is just like alright I'mma put him out of his misery.

you’re the only one who can piss me off to a crazy extent but still the only one who can make things better with just a text

the feminine urge to run barefoot into the forest. to read and make art. to tell people how much they mean to you. to pick pretty flowers and put them in someone’s hair. to stare at the sky and see your own breath as you breathe in the changing air.

Fun fact: I’m autistic I’m gonna do a thing inspired by another person

Reblog if your blog is safe for autistic people or is ran by an autistic person!

oh and

Reblog if you stand against Autism Speaks!

i like to think that our blogs are just our own little personal museums of all the things we like, and we can visit each other’s museums and leave nice notes at the reception.

“In college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.”

— Nicholas Rombes, The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

spotify, pinterest and tumblr;

the holy trinity

You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it’ll be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.