When he straightened again, there were six Harry Potters gasping and panting in front of him.
Fred and George turned to each other and said together, “Wow- we’re identical!”
"I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.
Do you ever get like super vulnerable late at night that you just want to spill your heart out and say how you feel because you’ve been holding it in for so long and you just need some ventilation and there’s just something about two in the morning that makes me lose my filter and say the things I would never have the guts to say when the sun is up.
The story behind that is Mark read a letter someone sent him as an email, that a kid wrote before he committed suicide to his parents. We kind of got together and wrote this sad, slow song. It came out sadder than we ever thought it would, which is good too. Any song that moves you is good. Some people listen to it and go ‘Wow, that’s a real bum-out of a song.’ But it’s one of those things, a story of a kid not being happy in his life, crossed with us being really lonely on tour. At the end of it there’s a better way out, there are better things to do than kill yourself. Tom Delonge
Tom and Travis always had girlfriends waiting back home, so they had something to look forward to at the end of the tour. But I didn’t, so it was always like, I was lonely on tour, but then I got home and it didn’t matter because there was nothing there for me anyway. Mark Hoppus
FROM PAGE TO SCREEN: → Divergent - Chapter 20
Come on, think. I stop trying to break the glass. It’s hard to breathe, but I have to try. I’ll need as much air as I can get in a few seconds.My body rises, weightless in the water. I float closer to the ceiling and tilt my head back as the water covers my chin. Gasping, I press my face to the glass above me, sucking in as much air as I can. Then the water covers me, sealing me into the box. Don’t panic. It’s no use—my heart pounds and my thoughts scatter. I thrash in the water, smacking the walls. I kick the glass as hard as I can, but the water slows down my foot. The simulation is all in your head. I scream, and water fills my mouth. If it’s in my head, I control it. The water burns my eyes. […] I scream again and shove the wall with my palm. I hear something. A cracking sound. When I pull my hand away, there is a line in the glass. I slam my other hand next to the first and drive another crack through the glass, this one spreading outward from my palm in long, crooked fingers. My chest burns like I just swallowed fire. I kick the wall. My toes ache from the impact, and I hear along, low groan.The pane shatters, and the force of the water against my back throws me forward. There is air again.