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Francesca, obsessed with SPN.

“Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.”
They say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe I’m not leaving. Maybe I’m going home.

— Gattaca, 1997 (via artvevo)

angel-of-the-get-through:

Idea: send me your number on anon. We text for two days, no name, no picture, just talking. We see if we’d be friends from getting to know one another. On day three you send me a picture and your name.



13 things my uncle told me before he died:
not everyone has the blessing to understand sadness
when waiting at the bus stop, it’s okay to smoke cigarettes
never touch anyone else’s clothes at the laundromat
it’s okay to miss the people who were bullets to you
when your grandmother asks you how you are, be honest
never be afraid to say “no” even after you’ve said “yes”
if someone tells you graffiti isn’t art, prove them wrong
remember people by their eye color not their clothes
you’re allowed to like dark chocolate with tangerines
don’t lie that you don’t have a lighter when you really do
turn your phone off every once in a while and find the moon
if you want a tattoo, don’t let anyone tell you not to get it
if you ever find yourself at the graveyard, read the names

— poems from my uncles grave  (via twelvestepped)

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo: «La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.»

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

— 20 poemas de amor y una canción desesperada, Pablo Neruda (via je-ne-peux-vivre-sans-toi)

qweety:

just this guy’s laugh

heatherincoldblood:

{out-of-bullets}:

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Wake up every morning and tell yourself that you’re a badass bitch from hell and that no one can fuck with you and then don’t let anybody fuck with you.

— Kate Nash’s advice to college students  (via einhorny)

syntheticthoughts:

hislendercry:

turkeytree:

chelseaalysse:

"Everything in my head went quiet. 

All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. 

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. 

Even in bed, I’m thinking: 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. 
Or the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek. 
I knew I had to talk to her. 
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. 
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. 
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or talking to her.. 
But she loved it. 
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times at different times of the day. 
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. 
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely lock the door eighteen times. 
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked; 
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. 
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. 
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. 
But then.. She said I was taking up too much of her time. 
That I couldn’t kiss her goodbye so much because I was making her late for work.. 
When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line.. 
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking.. 
And last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. 
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but.. 
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch her? 
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. 
I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. 
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. 
I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars.. 
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. 
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. 
How she turns shower knobs like she opening a safe. 
How she blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out-…. 
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. 
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once-he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! 
I want her back so bad.. 
I leave the door unlocked. 
I leave the lights on. ”

I’ve always seen this gif and never really understood it till now. So heartbreaking. 

this whole thing really fucks me up man

I love this guy.

Neil Hilborn is my favourite.


astoundly:

sometimes i think i’m sassy and then i realize i’m just too sarcastic and borderline mean

kelbebop:

gailsimone:

lawebloca:

Friends

I almost died just now.

Snoopy and Charlie Brown IRL.


ofpousseys:

"you’re so full of yourself" no i had a lot of insecurites and a low self esteem which i worked extremely hard to overcome and now i realize that im awesome and i dont care if you think otherwise