My thoughts are stars, I can't fathom into constellations. I'm Ingrid. As much as I want to be normal like everyone else, I can't be. I'm still figuring out why am I here, and why am I like this. Somehow, I know the answers, but a part of me pushes them away, in hopes that maybe I can live my life simpler. I'm no one.

I stated it in my post. Thou shall not just read. Understand. ;)

At Czareen Elan’s abode with Jeanric and Mama and Troy and ****. Hahahaha joke.

Last Wednesday, May 15.

Flowers.

All the Flowers except The Witch of Portobello, all in all cost 120php, from Booksale. So yep, I only burned a one hundred and a twenty peso bill, nice right? Velocity is one of the books I’ve been searching for so long, because it’s really interesting:

“If you don’t take this note to the police….I will kill a lovely blond schoolteacher….If you do….I will instead kill an elderly woman active in charity work. You have six hours to decide. The choice is yours.” Then a young blond teacher is murdered-and Billy has another note. INTERESTING, NO?

And I won’t be talking about the other Flowers, so…find out.

Just a tip of advice: If you go to any bookstores, don’t ALWAYS buy the latest, cos if you do, you’ll only be thinking what everyone else is thinking. (Am I making sense….hahahaha) So yep. Go deeper and find Glory. Okay.

The wind talks. The birds sing a song. The stars wink. The ocean whispers. You need only to listen, to feel, to wonder, to breath. Everything will be okay. Okay? Okay.

“The face without a face”

Classy muggle over here. >u< okay.
I should be giving one of this notebooks to someone. But I like them both, and I have a fish inside my self so i’m still having second thoughts. Aaaand the blue strawberry is really pppreeetyyyy, I wish they’re real.  Okay.

DETERGENT.

emergeddivergent:

Divergent trilogy.

Hallo there guys! The official cover of the final book in the Divergent Trilogy - Allegiant is out already.

I am really excited about the last book! I can’t fathom my emotions, i can’t, i can’t. This is just awesome. I feel like i’ve waited for a new president that will change my life, yep something like that. The world will not be a better place if even one person haven’t read this. So grab your copies now, before the movie’s out!

I’ll really hate you if after seeing the movie without even reading the book, you’ll say “it changed my life, tobias is so freakin hot!!!!!” I’LL HATE YOU. SWEAR. Haha. I’m kidding.

PS. You can check the cover and other divergent stuff at my reblog-blog: ingridlovesfour.

Raindrops. Am I the only one fascinated upon the logic of dropping H2O? They drop without hesitation, because they know they will come back to where they came from.They drop because it’s too much. They drop because it helps. They drop because they know they’re meant to. They drop to make them true.

Little rain, little rain

How far do you go?

The sun’s still high, 

Little birds are still on flight

Would you wait ‘till the sun sets?

Or now, should you go?

Odd awe

mynameiselly:

I whisper secrets to
my pillow before bed that
are more like wishes than
anything else:

like how I would give back
every one of the 64,754 
minutes or the past 45 days
just to have your shoulder
instead of a pillow.

It never answers back.

That would be nice. Please, please do come.

thepaulineanatomy:

Long live writers.

Thank you for writing your books. Thank you for understanding me more than I understand my self. Thank you for opening my eyes in the midst of the vast digitize world. The least thing I could do is to thank you. So, thank you.

Van Houten,

I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time—and from what I saw, you have plenty—I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.

Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.

I want to leave a mark.

But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.

(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)