lill-ac:

maybe if you came and fell asleep next to me I wouldn’t be so sad

(via earthtograce)

itsstuckyinmyhead:

Siblings and Tumblr

(via xiupreme-overlord)

A woman sitting by herself is not waiting for you.

- Caitlin Stasey (via slugly)

(Source: mysharona1987, via thehaylstorm)

thebootydiaries:

no one knows how I truly feel :(

thebootydiaries:

no one knows how I truly feel :(

(via hold-touch-feel-kiss-taste-you)

443

stupidstagram:

U ever been so tired ur eyelids burn when u blink

(Source: natnovna, via emstym)

wreckedteens:

wearing a black bra and black underwear cause you’re a fierce bitch

(via messyandscattered)

darthxochitl:


that guy is about to battle like thirty cats

darthxochitl:

that guy is about to battle like thirty cats

(Source: kittiezandtittiez, via thecassset)

millennialau:

We need you to donate to the bail fund. Cops want it depleted. Make sure it’s not!

(via lastsforeverr)

gayinsect:

im pretty sure bromance is the perfect example of how embarrassingly fragile masculinity is. you know what a female bromance is called? a friendship 

(via yeah-rather-not)

hplyrikz:

Clear your mind here

hplyrikz:

Clear your mind here

(via darlingyouwillbeokaayy)

900

actionables:

image

IT’S THEM AS BABIES

(Source: lolgifs.net, via ripkevinfreakinsolo)

quasi-normalcy:

herotterness:

jaclcfrost:

in all my years that i have been on this earth i have not played spin the bottle once. does this mean that i’ve never actually lived? do a lot of people actually even play spin the bottle? or is its importance and prevalence stretched and exaggerated in media? these are the questions of the hour

Are teen parties with alcohol and red solo cups even real?!!?!

Has anyone ever participated in a food fight?!?

(via luke-is-leisuring)

bigrnac:

“everyone has their off days” I tell myself 15 days in a row

(Source: ouijasquiji, via ohkissmeagain)

(Source: doitforbarakatsbooty, via johnwhoacallaghan)

47
I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.

- b.e.fitzgerald (Art is a Facebook status about your winter break.)

(via free-and-nowhere-bound)