if
the ocean
can calm itself,
so can you.
we
are both
salt water
mixed
with
air.

meditation, nayyirah waheed   (via indicaviolet)

I love this. 

(via ihm319)

(Source: nayyirahwaheed, via bloodgutsandpussy)


toolesbiantofunction:

I’m dying omg 

(Source: iraffiruse, via weareallfragilefigures)

johnentwlstle:

it literally stresses me out how much good music there is that i still haven’t listened to

(via taylor-randal)

if you want to be beautiful
buy flowers and take
them to the cemetery

if you want to be free
write a letter to the person
you hate most then realize
you do not hate them
at all

if you want to be wild
wake up at 6 AM, drink
hot coffee and watch the
sunrise

if you want to be happy
smile at every person
you see even if they aren’t
looking  

(Source: irynka, via weareallfragilefigures)

babyferaligator:

WHY IS WALKING PAST STRANGERS SO STRESSFUL

(via weareallfragilefigures)
Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film. Letters From Nowhere (via eteriese)

(Source: vervelig, via titlefightkev)

rocksymom:

Home is where your wi-fi connects automatically.

(via zainaaaab)
illuminaughtykitten: k-rtcocaine: vick-tumbling-at: From Malcolm in the Middle to Heisenberg. ily omg

ehehehelokid:

sherlocked-inside-the-tardis:

nonothingatall:

jendabenda:

jinglepandas:

egobus:

modified-grrrl:

petition for dudes to shut the fuck up about makeup on women

petition for everyone to shut the fuck up about makeup on women

petition for everyone to shut the fuck up about makeup on anyone

petition for everyone to shut the fuck up.

petition to fuck everyone

image

why does it always come down to this

(via slo-the)

10880-malibu-point-california:

awkwardrabbit:

failstun:

tltty:

hot waiters make me nervous & forget what i want to order

they are the order

I’d like a piece of that ass

no one should ever let us outside

(Source: hungarian, via slo-the)

m-eg:

i hate those friendships that just end for no reason you just stop talking

(via neotonyy)
Life, too, is like that. You live it forward, but understand it backward. Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone  (via stxxz)

(Source: larmoyante, via delusion-als)

dieceased:

everything’s happening too quick for my wallet

(via -tonightalive)