“So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do.”—Dead Poets Society, 1989 (via skinandboneskeleton)
Hey Theodore Roosevelt, remember that time someone tried to assassinate you, but you just laughed and proceeded to give a 90-minute long speech with the bullet lodged in your lung, where it remained for the rest of your life? Or when you tore up your leg after being thrown into piranha-infested waters while exploring uncharted Brazil? Or all those times you broke your ribs from falling off horses while doing bad-ass jumps? Or when you destroyed the sight in your left eye in a White House boxing match? Or that time you killed a cougar in a knife fight (seriously.)? And how the only way death could finally get to you was in your sleep, in the early morning on this day in 1919. Here's to TR as the infinite inspiration for pure, condensed badassery. ;)
so i just remembered to eat dinner. at 1:00 in the morning.
i found out earlier tonight that a boy i went to high school with is dead. i don’t know how he died yet, but everyone seems shocked. personally, i’m shocked.
i didn’t really know this boy very well, other than being in the same gym class or seeing him at his locker, but i feel pretty upset that he’s gone. i hate death to begin with—it makes me wildly uncomfortable. but knowing that someone my age that i knew is gone forever freaks me out.
when i found out, i just sat on my couch muttering ‘i don’t understand’ over and over under my breath while forgetting sarah marshall played in the background. i cut out 36 paper anchors to distract myself. it even made me forget to eat dinner—for six hours. i really, really, really hate death and dying.
but death is a part of life, right? i should get used to it seeing as there’s no way around it, right? right?