FWD: This site messed up and they’re ACTUALLY giving away free Beats headphones by Dr. Dre.. Me and my sister got THREE pairs earlier from FedEx
put your email and shipping info in at http://bit.ly/NElteb and follow the directions. Reblog so everyone else can do it too., before they fix the site and it doesn’t work anymore. The early bird catches the, um, headphones., Lauren thought you would be interested in the following link http://bit.ly/NElteb
Kid Cudi stands in front of his full-length mirror. It is hanging on the back of his bedroom door, and the rumpled sheets of his bed— rumpled only by me, he thinks morosely— reflect behind him.
He takes a long drag off his joint, holding the smoke in his lungs while he turns and rests the joint on the edge of his dresser, the burning tip directly above a trash can.
“That’s my secret,” he says, staring into his reflection’s eyes. Smoke filters out of his mouth with each word. “I’m always angry.”
He exhales the remainder of the smoke.
Kid Cudi thinks about his life— his failures, his broken promises, his betrayals, his loneliness; he stares into his reflection’s eyes and focuses on these dark parts of his life, lets the pain bubble to the surface, and lets himself feel truly angry.
His pain, his rage, does not become a conduit for strength and healing and acceptance. He simply feels sick. Sick and alone.
Tony Stark was wrong. Bruce Banner was wrong. He is nothing like them. He is not a hero.
Kid Cudi turns away from the mirror. He pushes his joint into the trash can and lets it burn down on its own. There will be more weed. There will be more money. There will be more loneliness.
He crawls into his self-rumpled sheets and does not sleep.