The Book Of Grey

I'm hannah. There isn't much else to say.


feel free to...

pick apart my brain (chopsticks/paintbrushes perfered) (asK away)



email: hannahpaintdgrey@yahoo.com

Inspiration: Jonathan Travis Face

Photobucket

Doctor. Doctor.

My skin is callus. 

He knew this and chose to cut through it.

I don’t think he had a purpose. I think I was a project.

One of those donated bodies they used in med school.

To pick apart and dissect. To study disease.

To see if the future could change for someone else.

This was different.

He needed a live body.

Blood pumping through the veins.

Thoughts racing maybe rotting the brain.

I wouldn’t…

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Unfamiliar.

It was odd;

An odd feeling.

He wasn’t predictable like the others-

Maybe he was but not to me.

He was definitely unlike the rest.

I wanted to know him

and not just know him but…

Memorize his being.

It’d take a lifetime…

and I’m not promising that I want a lifetime.

Not even for myself.

But for now, I wouldn’t mind it at all.

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The need of someone else.

The need of someone else.

I don’t like feeling that I need someone.

I don’t need people in my life.

You know those romance films…

The ones where they feel lost and empty?

Lost and empty without their other half?

I’d much rather feel lost and empty by myself.

I don’t want to need someone.

I don’t like the thought of needing someone else

Because I have myself.

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Impact Magazine summer/fall 2012Impact Magazine is a college magazine at Palomar College in San Marcos. We print articles about…View Post

Death At A Funeral (2007)

(Source: fassyy)

peculiaraura:

itscandidlycaratempurl:

Friendly reminder this show was filmed in front of a live studio audience in one take.

And that all sitcom laugh tracks are taken from this show because the laughter was so sincere.

(via a-mad-girl-with-some-fandoms)

queenofadodi:

BEST FOURTH WALL BREAK IN TV HISTORY

(Source: femburton, via a-mad-girl-with-some-fandoms)

(Source: yattori)

(Source: rtyuijhggfiyfyi)

(Source: jpagec)

“Every love is carved from loss.”

—   Everything Is Illuminated 

(Source: lothar-zogg)

“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others -the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midfternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else… I am not sad.”

—   Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer (via malcobb)

(Source: bettedot-tattler)