Love is welcomed.

ceruleancynic:

captaingumdrop:

muddaytires:

1037135:

self-dunk

……”uh oh”

you can see the exact moment where it realizes how bad it fucked up

I have been sitting here giggling at this for 5 minutes straight
sleek and elegant predator right here yo
It’s just that I learned a while ago that the best way to get people to like you is not to like them too much.
I was the one who loved you even when you gave me thousands of reasons not to.
vineofficial:

This is fucked upThis fucked me up

friendsarefortheweak:

reblogalert:

Lifehack: Accidentally text the wrong person? Immediately put your phone on airplane mode and once it fails to deliver, delete the message.

Share this it might save a life

(via muggletimelord)

I wish somebody had told me that loving people, knowing how to love those people, and those people loving you back were three entirely different things.
How many times have you tried to talk to someone about something that matters to you, tried to get them to see it the way you do? And how many of those times have ended with you feeling bitter, resenting them for making you feel like your pain doesn’t have any substance after all? Like when you’ve split up with someone, and you try to communicate the way you feel, because you need to say the words, need to feel that somebody understands just how pissed off and frightened you feel. The problem is, they never do. “Plenty more fish in the sea,” they’ll say, or “You’re better off without them,” or “Do you want some of these potato chips?” They never really understand, because they haven’t been there, every day, every hour. They don’t know the way things have been, the way that it’s made you, the way it has structured your world. They’ll never realise that someone who makes you feel bad may be the person you need most in the world. They don’t understand the history, the background, don’t know the pillars of memory that hold you up. Ultimately, they don’t know you well enough, and they never can. Everyone’s alone in their world, because everybody’s life is different. You can send people letters, and show them photos, but they can never come to visit where you live. Unless you love them. And then they can burn it down.
It’s okay if I’m not
your favorite
chapter you have
written,
but I hope you
sometimes smile
when you flip
back to the pages
I was still apart of.
everything-is-stickers:

fezwhatfez:

thequietpagan:

bywandandsword:

Fucking shit

This is simultaneously cool-looking and absolutely terrifying.

i was like, ohhhh what adorable little - AHHHHHH NO

OOOH NO
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