Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

Apr 2

(Source: shialablunt, via thebluths)

Apr 2

Has anyone in this family ever even SEEN a chicken?

(Source: thebluths, via thebluths)

Mar 30

wetheurban:

ART: 19-Year-Old Sleep Paralysis Victim Recreates His Visions in Stunning Surreal Photographs

Conceptual photographer Nicolas Bruno has suffered from sleep paralysis since he was 15.

Read More

Is it better to have loved and lost than

To never have loved at all?  I waiver not

In my answer; I know it is far worse to

To have known you wholly, and then not at all.

It is far worse to have known

Your stormy blue eyes on my mine, the corners

Crinkling as your perfectly formed lips part

To reveal sweetly crooked teeth, my favorite smile.

It is far worse to have known

Your texts read through bleary midnight eyes,

Our endeavor to understand what it all meant

In the company of each other.

Yet as these memories bob to the surface of my brain,

I know I’d endure a hundred lifetimes apart just to live them again. 

Mar 30
My sonnet that I hope someone besides my English teacher reads
Mar 21

tastefullyoffensive:

Rock humor. [x]

Jan 25

aquus:

vinesnow:

When that beat drops

I love cats

(Source: VinesNow.com, via gayhandshake)

It’s been a while. 

*deviously winks and sips non-specific beverage with great aplomb*

Jan 25
Hello, Tumblr.
Dec 12

wetheurban:

ART: Hyper Realistic Paintings by Matthew Cornell

Like, are you joking… this is beyond amazing. Matthew Cornell holds a BFA from California State University, Long Beach. He describes his paintings as ‘sublime observations,’ dramatized by his careful use of color and atmosphere.

The small scale of his canvases and the great detail in his landscapes are intended to encourage a greater intimacy between viewer and image.

Read More

I hope that when you think of me,

a million tiny memories start bobbing up

to the surface of your memory,

and I hope you wish that you could erase them

even though they’re your favorite thing 

to play on the back of your eyelids

while you sleep, like a movie 

that you can’t stop watching even though

it’s making you cry.

I hope that the thought of me feels

like a laceration right across your skull.

I hope that you want to tattoo my name

up and down your arms

because you can’t stop thinking about me

and because you hope that putting me

into something as tangible and corporeal as a single word

will turn me from the phantom haunting your thoughts

into something that you can hold in your hands.

I hope that when your head hits the pillow at night,

all you can think about is

how many times you looked at me that day,

and how many times I was looking back at you.

And I hope it kills you

when you look at me not looking at you,

And I hope it kills you

when you look at me looking at someone else.

I hope that when you try to clear your heart out

to make room for someone new,

you find that you can’t,

because I am a permanent resident—

a tenant who has not paid rent for months,

but you can’t bring yourself to kick out. 

I hope that when you try to look at every single star

in the night sky,

you think of how I would be be doing the same exact thing,

and I hope that makes you sad. 

And when a song I told you about

pops up on Pandora, 

I hope that makes you sad, too. 

I hope that you go to sleep thinking about me

and I hope you wake up thinking about me

and I hope you go insane

because all you can do is

think

about

you

and me, 

and me

and you.

Because that’s exactly what you did to me.

Dec 12
Things

"We are the generation of the selfie and of self-induced sadness, born in the same year that three of my idols would commit suicide. Most poets die with the lights on, but we all plan on drowning. We are the generation of grounding lightning into coffee beans, of pulling strings from the hems of our dresses until we unravel, of leaving footprints in the gravel on the way to the edge of the world. I am a computer girl, and I was born in the year of the boar. Maybe that’s why I’m a whore, and my best friends are all pigs, and I dig my own grave every time I open my mouth. We are the generation of meaningless trophies, it’s true. My parents like to tell me: “you think that you deserve everything.” But we are a generation of scraping, watching our parents cry over housing prices and dying white clothes black to blend in. We are children of the wind, born to land wherever freedom settles us and we take our parent’s debt with us everywhere. We are a generation of change and of chains, and mostly I think we deserve any fame we can get: thirty people hitting “like” on a status. Girls posting photos of themselves naked have earned every moment of bliss they receive from finding themselves beautiful in their own skin. We are a generation of women airbrushed to perfection and daughters taking pills to feel pretty again. And mostly, I don’t like to make sweeping generalizations about my friends but I think it’s okay if at the end of some days we feel like relaxing, taking a photo of our dinner, telling two hundred near-strangers how lucky we feel to be existing anywhere at all."

- The Selfie Generation; Hannah Beth Ragland  (via allmymetaphors)

(via recordinghistory)

Nov 30