I HAVE TO SNEEZE LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS AND IT’S BEEN STUCK IN MY FACE SINCE GODDAMNED 9:43 THIS MORNING.
AND I ONLY KNOW THAT BECAUSE THAT’S WHEN I PUNCHED IN FOR WORK, FUCK ALL Y’ALL.
Stop beating yourself up. You are a work in progress - which means you get there a little at a time, not all at once.
My heart broke into tiny pieces when I read the Rosetta Stone tweet.
My mother is crying over these.
I want Robert Pattinson to play a hunter on Supernatural who kills nothing except vampires.
MAKE A PETITION OUT OF THIS
I’M ABOUT 9000 % SURE HE’D DO IT
the best part is that he would fucking love it
HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO PLAY A CHARACTER
HE COULD JUST BE HIMSELF
SO PISSED OFF ABOUT VAMPIRES THAT HE STARTS HUNTING THEM FOR REAL
My stomach growled super loud in French omg
I would like to clarify my stomach did not speak French. It growled in French class I apologize
hon hon hon feed me a baguette
I am the reason why another girl is crying to her mother at the careless spin of the aurora, because I’ve gotten what I wanted and that is the boy with green eyes and dark hair, darker than the ink of the sideboob tattoo I got when I was sixteen and stupid and in love. I’m the dust waiting to be touched on the window sill of your bedroom. I’m the girl known for giving the best neck kisses. I’m the melancholy hum you always hear, when the city is alive at night and you don’t where to go but you want to go alone. Then you realize when you’ve sat on a cliff, holding a beer on your left hand and the other gripping your hair, you realize this kind of beauty should be shared. I’m that loneliness for ten seconds. I’m that girl who always wears black, head to toe, that I myself had gone tired and flat of all the rumours on why I wear black in a town that never rains. You’re the reason why I painted my nails in the darkest colour of blue, just like the depths of oceans. You told me I needed more colour and I believed you, like every word that came out of that mouth of yours, which I know the map of. Everybody is asking me how I came to this point. Wild, smart for her own good, unbroken. Everybody wants to know, when they already know it’s about a boy that never truly loved me. I’m nothing but an apology letter to you while I gave you parts of me, parts that are still scattered in your apartment. I know you’re asleep while I’m writing this and I know that you still love her, but I just want you to know, baby, you really broke me.
what really scares me is that i’m average i’m not really good at anything or really beautiful i’m going to live an average life with an average job an average income and die an average death with an average funeral and nobody is going to remember me
Van Gogh thought that too
That is really, really inspiring, actually.