“Any future where humans aren’t replaced by sentient machines is insufficient”
(via dar-irl)
(via cyberpunkgifs)
College Sheldon was an embarrassment
whattheendoftheworldlookedlike:
Prague, 1968.
(via se17enteen)
I haven’t felt depressed in weeks and this is unreal, this sense of comfort with myself. It’s weird that I can simultaneously feel so critical of myself–all the traits I lack, all the toxin I’ve had bred into me–and still feel like I’m exactly who I want to be. It’s a shame to have lost people, to know there are people who used to like having me around, who think of me now as nothing more than a caricature (and it’s fair! I knew so many good people, had the company of so many people I never deserved!) but also like, those people are out there, doing their thing, growing and blossoming, and I’m good with that. I wake up at sunrise every day and write my stories, I bike to work, I bike home, I make my meals and read. I see so few people now, have so much less of a need for it. Sometimes I spend time with a person I care deeply about, and she puts me in my place, keeps me here. I have so little to offer and yet here I am, every day, hands outstretched, trying. I could do this forever. Will probably do this forever. Until the whole thing collapses.
