Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.
Nothing to do, nowhere to be, a simple little kind of free. Nothing to do, no one but me, that is all I need.
There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.
omfg she sounds just like Bey.
I hope beyonce see’s this one day lmfaaaaaaaaoo!~
lmfaoooo I’m crying her face expressions are perfect
i can’t stand you for this, please get off my screen! you made me cry from laughter! i love it.