rakh

lock me in the Château d'If and leave me to grind

a true classic dropped 10 years ago today

all the hot girl rooms ive visited are messy which makes them even hotter. you can see how their mind works. i love watching them rummage thru their piles of pretty clothes, books and makeup. its like visiting the backstage as a vip, truly a privilege

this is such a universal experience

Dua Lipa calls “Toxic” by Britney Spears as the “one of the greatest pop songs ever made.”

I've sent this to all my friends dating crypto bros

23:14, maybe. A train platform, a smoking area outside a bar, a grocery line moving too slowly, a flight delayed at a gate with bad lighting and nowhere to put your hands. One of those dead little pockets of life where nobody is supposed to matter to each other. Then somehow a conversation opens. Not small talk that stays in its cage. Not “what do you do” and “where are you from” and the usual dead furniture people drag around to avoid silence. Something real gets loose. One sentence too honest. One joke that lands a little too perfectly. One look that says, oh, you live there too. Suddenly you are talking to a stranger like you found a hidden room inside the night. That kind of conversation has a very specific feeling in the body. Your shoulders stop performing. Your face changes. You stop checking how you sound. The words come out in the order they arrive, which is rare enough to feel almost dangerous. You say something you didn’t know you were carrying until it leaves your mouth and they don’t step on it. They pick it up gently. They add to it. They know exactly what you meant without making you explain it to death. For twenty minutes, maybe an hour if the world is being unusually generous, you are more understood by a stranger than by half the people in your phone. Then you leave. No Instagram. No number. No “we should hang.” No soft little future promise thrown over the moment like a net. Just a smile, maybe a nod, maybe “good luck” or “have a good night” or some stupidly normal last line that cannot possibly hold what just happened. That is the intimacy. Not because it turns into something. Because it doesn’t. People are so trained now to convert every spark into access. Every good interaction has to become a follow, a saved contact, a networking opportunity, a thread that continues. We are terrified of unmonetized connection. Terrified of moments that exist only as moments. As if a conversation has less value unless it can be dragged into the future and stored there. A stranger you never see again can still change the temperature of your whole week. That’s what people forget. The lack of exchange gives the conversation this strange purity. No strategy. No follow-up performance. No wondering when to text. No trying to keep the energy alive through dry little messages two days later. No turning a perfect thing into another obligation. Nobody has to become more disappointing than they already are in your imagination. You get to leave each other intact. There’s something almost holy in that. A person gets to witness you for one brief pocket of time and then vanish back into the world. No claiming. No gradual erosion. No chance for the usual modern rot to get in there. No seen notifications, no delayed replies, no slow little death by logistics. A lot of closeness gets ruined by continuation. The conversation at 00:07 in the corner outside the party is electric because it still belongs to the night. Try to make it live in daylight and suddenly you are just two people with jobs and dishes and weird texting styles and different levels of effort and maybe the magic doesn’t survive the transfer. Some things are held together by their limit. That is why it hurts a little too, if you’re paying attention. Because a good conversation with a stranger reminds you how starved most people are for unguarded contact. Look how fast it happens when both people drop the normal script. Look how quickly two lives can touch. Look how much tenderness can fit into one cigarette, one bench, one delayed train, one shared cab ride, one bookstore aisle, one patch of cold air outside a venue. It makes the rest of social life feel almost embarrassing. All the half-dead chats. All the little performances. All the polite pretending. All the maintaining. Then one stranger asks the right question, or says one line in the exact right tone, and suddenly you remember your mind is still a place someone can visit and be surprised by.

yeah im a socialist i love talking to people ^-^

ill talk to anybody for 6+ hours & it's made a lot of people think theyre in love w me, which leads to some Uncomfortable Talks. i didn't get why until i realized Most People Are Shit Conversationalists so many think conversational stamina = chemistry. im just Texan & mad affable

when everyone’s talking about coachella but nothing will ever beat the 2023 lineup

This is so beautifully written. Love at first sight has been so overused and misinterpreted that people have begun to dismiss it as some fantasy yet love truly is just a glance away. You recognise a soul, and once you do, you keep recognising them, again and again, forever.

Has to be @RilesActu hands down

Dude next to me in T wearing sweats, ski mask, dark glasses, and black Air Force’s…been on flight or fight since he stepped on

@divya_venn + secure enough in themselves and the friendship to do this and not talk for two weeks then do it again lol

I have a certain archetype of friend where we talk for over 8 hours at a time with intense undiminished mutual enjoyment and today i cracked the formula, both must be; 1) chaotic enough that nothing one says can alarm the other 2) yappers 3) gossips 3) curious about many things

ok so she unblocked me and texted me today I am still hopelessly in love

Nothing like this goddamn

@dontolivernow @hydmasti @leartifr Cannot beat Secondhand

🚨OCTANE SIGNED VINYL GIVEAWAY 🚨 Here's how to enter: - Follow @dontolivernow + @hydmasti + @leartifr - Like and RT this post - Reply with your favourite song off Octane Winner will receive a signed vinyl of their choice GOOD LUCK. Winner will be selected on 04/14

French music is the perfect amount of chill

you know an artist never flopped when all their eras are on their profile

If you don’t believe you can eat 360 Oreo cookies in 24 hours for 5 million dollars you aren’t allowed to call yourself a man