People.
Look at this.
The meanings of names and surnames.
For example:
George: Farmer; earthworker.
Casper: Treasurer.
Karim: Dignified.
So, technically, George Casper Karim means "the farmer of the dignified treasure".
Not so bad, it makes some sense.
Now, Lockwood.
Anthony: priceless one.
John: God is gracious.
Lockwood: forest near the fortified place.
So Anthony John Lockwood is called "The priceless one of the grace of God from the forest near the fortified place".
Now, Lucy.
Lucy: light.
Joan: God is gracious.
Carlyle: Fortress, stronghold, castle.
So, Lucy Joan Carlyle means "The light of the grace of God from the fortress".
What the....
Carlyle... Fortress... Lockwood... Forest near to the-
*gasp in argentinian*
OH
MY
PRICELESS
GOD.
I am going to burn the fucking world to the ground.
Netflix, if you read this, prepare. You will suffer a revolution. You will not be able to sleep peacefully. I will make you regret deciding to not continue with Lockwood and Co.
First, it was with Anne with an 'E'. Second, with Julie and the Phantoms. Now, a third, with Lockwood and Co. I am DONE.
Brace yourself. There will be blood in the water soon.
Mahmoud Darwish, King Solomon, Neil Gaiman, Nikita Gill, Mary Oliver, butterflies rising, Lang Leav, rachel h, Alexandra Vasiliu, Shayan Das : *writes masterpieces of stories and poems*
Me: *screaming, crying, suffering, etc. in bilingual frustration* WHY I CANNOT BE YOU
Today was a day that was a freaking suffering.
Yet, i am pleased to say that I entered the career of psychology.
I ENTEREDDDDDD
Now I can sleep with peace and dream with Morpheus js.
Now that I think of it, there is gonna be way difficult now.
Dont matter. I will be able.
Now, lets dream and dream bigger with burning Netflix down.
That's not so christian of me but well.
Good Night/day/afternoon fellas!
I miss those times. When childhood made everything brighter, when I used to feel safe with you. I miss all of it, I miss that version of you. But now you left childhood behind, or maybe, just left me behind. And all I want is to rip your throat with my teeth because I don't understand how could you just leave after all we shared. And because of that:
You owe me.
I'm not proud this, but I hope that the memories that haunt me haunts you too.
I bet you'd figured, I'd pass with the winter, be something easy to forget.
—Olivia Rodrigo.
You were my first best friend and my first love. I suppose that's why it hurted more when you left without a word.
Were you afraid of me loving you? You were my friend. Of course I loved you. Was it so difficult? To tell me you didn't feel the same and to make peace? I would have acepted it.
“is it posible to be so dissapointed on something you already know would be like how It went? Were you really so naive at the point that you hoped it to be... different?. ”
What a nasty day to be argentinian
Guys, Stroud will be taking part in an event at the International Literature Festival in Dublin this month, let's show him our love and support and hope there'll be a way to save the show
I do not. I grew fond of Sanji and regret nothing.
Sorry everyone, I really wasn’t planning to get obsessed with one piece like this
"I love my mother. I really do.
And I know that she loves me too. I know that she made difficult choices in order of that love and I know that she sacrificed a lot too. I love her for that, for chosing me over other things, other people, other choices.
But there are days where I cause her to be angry, by disobeying her, by not listening to her, and she says the cruelest things I never thought I would hear from her, and I can't help but think that a part of her, a little yet significant part of her, thinks that I owe her for that. I, her only daughter, owe her all the sweat, all the tears, all the blood she lost for loving me. A part of her that will always blame me for what she had to do.
And I don't know if I should feel like I do owe her my own sweat, tears and blood.
Should I? Is it true that I owe her all of that? Is it true that I have to give all of that back to her one day? Do I have to sacrifice myself too? ”
—a quiet thought that I had to write down.
People, I am an oneironaut.
I just woke up of my nap and I remember a little of my dream, yet I precisely remember that I could pause it, play it back, play it forward. I could control my own dream.
I remember one thing: I saw a man. Tall, with raven hair and all dressed in black. I dont remember his face, but I remember that I knew he was angry for something.
Should I sleep again or I am in danger?
I love my brain when this kinda things come to real.