Poor Wöller, No One Ever Tells Him What's Going On Lol

“Beef” is about so many fucking things, but ultimately it’s about the hardship of being human, the ultimate disappointment and disillusionment that you go through year after year when things don’t go your way and you’re miserable or when everything goes your way and you’re still miserable. When you think you’re living life right but you’re still so fucking unhappy and NOTHING fills the void that spasms inside of you and and and because of this feeling, that life isn’t what you thought it was going to be, the rage pot boils and it boils over and it spills onto everything.

And fuck fuck fuck, it’s about two people who are so disconnected from everyone else in their life because of this feeling that the only person they connect to toxically is each other, because this rage is known, this misery is shared, and even though it’s so fucking destructive, at least it’s not lonely anymore.

I miss Jude.

Sometimes I don’t know what I really mean by that. At least right now what I mean is that I miss reading his dialogue. A good amount of the book is about his thoughts and actions. But his conversations —his innocent questions, his sarcastic humor, his petulant stubbornness, his lengthy discussions about law and math — are precious to me. I miss reading him speak.

Some days I miss his routines, other days I miss his introspection. Today I miss his voice, even though I’ve never heard it before.

I chop you down, hack at you with scissors like I greet the most evil character in a story. What power could a cluster of dead cells possibly hold over me, I think. Until I look in the mirror and see a stranger staring back. You keep growing, month after month after month, relentlessly like you are obsessed with caressing my neck. Others envy the liking you have taken to my collarbone and praise the fast paced journey you take to get there every month. But I know. Oh I know how cunning you are. I know how you plan to coil around my neck like an alive rope choking me tighter and tighter with every passing day and with every growing inch. I chop at you and you keep growing back, till the nape of my neck itches till it bleeds. But it's the ghost of an itch, and I really can't place it. My mom taught me to make beautiful braids out of the same rope that clutched my windpipe preventing me from breathing. I thank you mother, to have taught me to create something so beautiful out of something so horrible. But no mom, it doesn't help and it isn't me who you see in those pretty braids. No mom, you have ceased to know me from the moment you molded me out of your expectations and immaturity. No mom, I'm not going to hell for choosing to do what makes me happy. I choose to exist as I am, as I have been, and as I will be. I choose to breathe free. And I will not let anyone choke me dead for that matter.

Shinichi Sakamoto

BETTER DAYS  少年的你 (2019) dir. Derek Tsang

House of Hummingbird 벌새 (2018)

I can't stop thinking about this part of a review left for Threads (1984). It's been in my head for days

Ugh I accidentally looked into the mirror and now I’m aware of how fem I look. Why must I look this way

The casual intimacy of being single, living by yourself, and drinking in the bath. Unparalleled.

the absolute funniest plot of nbc hannibal is the fact that the fbi is looking for a serial killer that is highly skilled in evading the police and has been killing for decades in multiple countries, and then they hired a guy who showed up to work like this every day to catch him.