i am a human being
my name is unhwa and i am a human being.
驼道
most of you see to the right is not my own; if you want to see things i made personally, the links below will help you out.
photos.videos.art
words
face
instagay
twatter
i’m that friend that has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk doesn’t fit a group of three
I think about this post a lot
(via 17yroldghost)
♥ 9199
→ 20 May 13 at 10 pm
→ 20 May 13 at 10 pm
Rosario Dawson smoking in a schoolgirl outfit. From the film 25th hour.
A real queen
yes rosario
this chick
(via yeezytaughtme)
"We tend to think animals are lower than us, but all the scientists in the world couldn’t design and operate a bumblebee’s wing. We can’t jump or run very fast, and we can’t carry vast weights like an ant can. We can’t see in the dark and we can’t fly except crammed in a noisy tube like sardines, which doesn’t count. Humans compared to animals are almost totally deaf, and we can’t smell a fart in an elevator by their standards. We are finite and separate, and neurotic, while the consciousness of an animal is at peace and eternal. We strive and go crazy to become more important. Animals rest and sleep and enjoy the company of each other. We think we have evolved upwards from animals but we have lost almost all of their qualities and abilities. The idea that animals don’t have consciousness or that they don’t have a soul is rather crass. It shows a lack of consciousness. They talk, they have families, they feel things, they act individually or together to solve problems, they often care of their young as a tribal unit. They play, they travel, and medicate themselves when they get sick. They cry when others in the herd die, they know about us humans. Of course they have a soul, a very pristine one. We humans are only now attempting with the recent rise in consciousness to achieve the soul that animals have naturally."
I was just lying in bed with my shower-wet hair wrapped in a towel trying to unpack why the ever-growing social media holiday blitz bums me out, when I stumbled onto a thought train that I felt okay about.
Somewhere along the line my mom decided to be a mom. She chose me. I was in her, and she was probably fucking terrified. And she could’ve chosen for me not to be there, but she didn’t. She’s probably been terrified every day since. Every decision, every crocodile tear shed. Am I breaking this thing I made? Are the things I do the right things for her? We’re all coming at this life with our imperfect loves and our bum knees and our nervous laughter, and maybe the biggest part of growing up for me has been the learning and re-learning that sometimes people are giving all they can. Sometimes it’s not everything — sometimes it’s not enough to cover your toes and keep you warm at night — but they’re choosing to give what little they have to you. As gratifying as it is to be indignant and insist you deserve more, some days of the year it’s okay to say thank you for showing up for me when you do. And thank you for treating me like the decisions I make matter in this world. And I’m sorry that we’re not better at being good to each other. You chose me. You chose to be a mom. And that’s seriously one of the most physically and psychologically optimistic things I can imagine.
(via effington)
