Europeans: I drove forty minutes to the Netherlands for some groceries and then I popped into Germany to see some of my relatives before driving back home.
Americans: I was in Florida, I drove for nine hours, now I'm still in Florida.
#australians: i drove for nine hours #now i'm nine hours away from home #no one is here #the streets are empty #how did this happen #where has civilisation gone #i am alone in the universe #oh wait no there's an echidna it's okay
Canadians: We left Toronto 2 days ago, We are still in Ontario, food is scarce. We are lost, soon we will have to eat each other to survive, oh wait there's a tims we're good.
Russians: I was in Yakutia, I drove for twenty eight hours, now I'm still in Yakutia, I travelled by train for 6 days, I'm still in Russia. Don't even try to leave Russia. Don't forget: you're here forever. Accept it and suffer.
The British: I drove for six hours, now I'm in the sea.
My breath comes out in a hiss because I don’t expect the inside of my mouth to be so warm when i absently (okay, purposely) run my tongue outside my lips to feel how dry the skin’s become.
Think ‘i don’t know’s going to be my new soundtrack because i SRSLY DON’T KNOW #$%^&*()_
Your eyes is the most alluring thing that I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s beautiful yet it’s mysterious. Just like how the moon hides in clouds. Just like how the sun creates unsafe yet breathtaking flares.
Your lips are venom yet I want to taste it. Just like a bitter alcohol that I would be willing to get drunk at. Just like a drug that I could take no matter how much it is. Just like a poison, yet I want to have even if I know it will kill me.
Your skin is lightning—it can burn and kill me just after I touched it. Your skin is velvet yet it’s a flame that I’d be more than happy to touch even if I know it can turn me into ashes.
Your laugh is like a classical music playing in a vintage radio. It is simple, romantic, priceless. Just like how priceless happiness is, just like how simple an old province turned out, just like how romantic every novels are.
Your hair is like a river that is always beautiful no matter which direction it takes. Like a river that I want to soak myself in, eventhough I may drown. Like a clear river that is rare, yet once found, gets everyone’s attention.
Your breath is the air I take— I am dependent of your life, I am dependent of how much happy you are, I am dependent of how much sadness you’ll have. Your breath is my heaven for you are my life. Your breath is my everything that I am willing to end my life once you ended yours.
out of sync