Well that worked out a lot better than I imagined. (x)
When Gatsby falls into the pool at the end, he wakes up as Dom Cobb.
I request a gif.
I leave it to you, Tumblr.
Well that worked out a lot better than I imagined. (x)
I was on the way home from work.
I worked from 4:00PM till midnight, so the roads were near empty save for the few of us that worked the late night shifts.
I was close to home. So, so close to home. I was in a pseudo-race with the car next to me. We weren’t quite speeding, but I could tell he wanted to be in front of me. I sped up a little on the long road that would bring me right home.
I felt a bit of relief seeing the car next to me stop. I figured he was turning into a side street, but then I realized how quickly he had stopped. The frame of his SUV lurched forward at the suddenness of it all. I looked in front of me and, at first, I didn’t see anything save for what looked a dark spot in the middle of the road. As my headlights revealed more of the road ahead, I saw bits and pieces of plastic, metal, and shattered glass.
The dark spot, in the middle of the road with no streetlamp above it, was an overturned car.
I slammed hard on my brakes, punching the hazard lights and praying to the heavens above me that the car behind me wouldn’t crash into me. I fumbled through my scrubs to grab my phone, frantically trying to tell Siri to dial 911. I got out of my car, trying to dial 911 and cursing loudly at myself.
“Already called 911 bro!” someone called. I looked up and saw a crowd forming at both sides of the street. There were people in their pajamas, worried and talking amongst themselves. They had their phones out, either talking to their loved ones or taking photos of the accident.
My heart sank when I spotted a person turned upside down in the car. I pocketed my phone and jogged up to the car. There was a smell of smoke and car exhaust, and it got stronger as I got nearer. I passed a college textbook, sprawled out on the pavement. As I got closer, random knick knacks and loose worksheets and lined-paper littered more and more of the pavement. There was only one person in the car, not much younger than I am.
His eyes were closed, and there was blood on his face.
“Hey,” I called, my heart sinking deeper and deeper thinking that he was dead. I didn’t want him to be dead, and I didn’t want to see a dead body.
I knelt down and knocked on the window. ”Hey,” I yelled, trying to wake up. His eyes blinked open, as if he had just woken up from a nap. He groaned and looked around him. ”Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Aw, man,” he said, realizing his situation. I almost chuckled at it.
He kept pawing at the window, his one arm almost flailing.
I went to open the car door, and I have to say: it’s disorienting and frightening, having to open an upside car door. It made an unhealthy creaking noise as I swung it open, change and loose things falling onto the ground, and the frame of his door grinded on the pavement as I pried it open completely. His arm sprawled onto the floor. I knelt down again, to see his face.
There was blood. There was blood in his mouth, in his teeth. I was amazed at how calm he seemed to be.
“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing how stupid of a question it was.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said, groaning and fumbling about, stuck upside down in his car.
“Are you pinned in there?” I asked, noticing the odd angle his leg was in.
“No, don’t think so,” he replied, moving slowly and carefully.
He held out his hand, trying to grasp my arm. I grabbed his hand and said “You’ll be okay. Help’s on the way.”
I wonder if I sounded scared, to him. If I sounded unconfident, frightened for his life. In all honesty, I think I was just saying things to calm myself. He closed his eyes and squeezed my hand.
“Hey man, thanks. Thanks man,” he kept saying to me.
I felt despair. I felt absolute terror. I felt many things.
“It’s what I’m here for, I guess,” was all I could think of to say.
The sirens and police lights grew nearer and nearer. It was almost deafening, the sounds of idling cars echoing off empty buildings on an empty street, combined with the wails of oncoming ambulances and police cars. The smell of the accident was nauseating.
I gripped his hand with both hands of mine. ”Hey, I gotta go. But they’ll take care of you buddy. I promise.”
I let go slowly. ”Thanks man,” he said again. There were car doors opening and slamming shut. There were men in black uniforms and loud radios telling me to go back to my car.
So I did.
And then the gravity of everything that happened fell on me.
***
I visited a friend to try and calm my nerves. I had to take a detour to get home, and it was the first time in my life my breathing became irregular. It was the first time I ever felt physically shaken and traumatized by a situation. I’m certain the kid’s okay. I hope he is.
I don’t know, Tumblr. I suck. I can’t sleep.
Maybe no one can, tonight.
Series 3: Concrete Interiors (images via google)
The “friends” section has been updated! Check out the links!
If you would like to become a friend of designismymuse, please email designismymuse@gmail.com for collaboration opportunities.
A Pokemon hipster may use phrases such as:
Politeness goes a long way when having to deal with individuals such as these. It’s best to just nod and smile and let your mind wander about other things (like the new Pokemon X & Y games that will arrive in Fall). Their opinion may very well be a valid one; a player who’s been with the franchise and its transitions through several handhelds may have felt disappointed with each new game after the original American Red & Blue versions. However, most of these people:
From a psychological standpoint, the motivation behind these so-called Pokemon Hipsters could be the need the fit in with the gaming Pokemon community, though they themselves may actually play video games on any sort of basis that a casual gamer would. To make up for this lack of experience and to make an attempt at being unique, the Pokemon Hipster creates a very solid opinion of the only game they know, the first in the series. Like a movie critic writing a scathing review about a movie they have never watched, the Pokemon Hipster criticizes each new game as gimmicky, uninspired, and repetitive. They hang on to the few names they know (i.e., Pikachu, Charmander, Mewtwo) and base their opinions off an insubstantial experience of the franchise.
That being said, you need not feel offended or bothered by the Pokemon Hipster. Just remember that, in isolating themselves with such strong and immature opinions, they won’t ever experience the following:
Okay I’m done ranting bye
One of the best fanarts I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Remember when Velma and Johnny kinda hooked up in the old Cartoon Network commercials? Well. This.
they are perfect
