Sometimes

psycholust:

I come to think, what the hell am I doing with my life? Why am I not good at something? Why didn’t I work harder at school? Why in hellfire and damnation am I not good enough?

(Reblogged from psycholust)
(Reblogged from kimcoronel)
debitnash:

frostingpeetaswounds:

SELENA REJECTING JUSTIN’S KISS
TAYLOR’S ‘YUCK’ FACE

LOL

debitnash:

frostingpeetaswounds:

SELENA REJECTING JUSTIN’S KISS

TAYLOR’S ‘YUCK’ FACE

LOL

(Source: ohsoswiftly)

(Reblogged from gawinmonglite)
(Reblogged from hypnoskid)
l-urk:

lol im alone 

l-urk:

lol im alone 

(Source: i-mpressed)

(Reblogged from hypnoskid)
(Reblogged from qfilart)

This is how you lose her. 
You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely. 
You must remember when she forgets. 
You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention. 
She remembers when you forget. 
You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the  beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.
You must learn her. 
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to. 
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
And, this is how you keep her. 

This is how you lose her. 

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets. 

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget. 

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the  beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her. 

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to. 

You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her. 

(Reblogged from qfilart)
the-art-of-preppy:

J. Crew darby loafer

the-art-of-preppy:

J. Crew darby loafer

(Reblogged from kimcoronel)
(Reblogged from makemestfu)
izziemurder:

thuugz-mansion:

liv-ing-dead:

b-lackghost:

lettersto-savemyself:

Depression (119/365)

this actually brought tears to my eyes due to the relevance. my gorgeous. smart, hilarious and perfect cousin told me that she used to cut before i started. lol no one will read this but idc.

I’m here if you need someone to talk to x

wow

this makes me want to cry because of how accurate this is. Those super happy perfect people can be depressed too, but know one notices, its not their fault they can fake a smile better than the rest.

izziemurder:

thuugz-mansion:

liv-ing-dead:

b-lackghost:

lettersto-savemyself:

Depression (119/365)

this actually brought tears to my eyes due to the relevance. my gorgeous. smart, hilarious and perfect cousin told me that she used to cut before i started. lol no one will read this but idc.

I’m here if you need someone to talk to x

wow

this makes me want to cry because of how accurate this is. Those super happy perfect people can be depressed too, but know one notices, its not their fault they can fake a smile better than the rest.

(Reblogged from execrablemistress)
(Reblogged from istalkfashion)

tumblrrmokong:

It will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking..


Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.
Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.


She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.
‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present .’

The origin of this letter is unknown, but please pass it on.

(Source: myownlittlecrazyworld)

(Reblogged from tumblrrmokong)

aquify:

“I’m the hero of this story. I don’t need to be saved.”

(Source: kevvn)

(Reblogged from le-seul)

how the fuck are some people so attractive how does dna do that why doesn’t mine do that how do i make it do that what’s the html code where’s the youtube tutorial

(Reblogged from istalkfashion)
(Reblogged from leilockheart)