caraphatash:

In response to Nash Grier using “fag.”
caraphatash:

In response to Nash Grier using “fag.”
caraphatash:

In response to Nash Grier using “fag.”
caraphatash:

In response to Nash Grier using “fag.”

caraphatash:

In response to Nash Grier using “fag.”

(via fatherlord-ozai)

stuning:

huntelaarr:

2005 wasn’t just 2005

it was the beginning of an era

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omfg i remember this

(via pizza)

humansofnewyork:

“People waste way too much energy taking things personally. That Facebook post is probably not about you. It was probably an accident that you weren’t tagged in that picture. And the person you’re dating is probably acting sad because that’s how they respond to setbacks at work, not because of anything you did.”

shubbabang:

funny story my 5th grade elementary school teacher was the one who figured out i had crazy bad adhd

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i hope she’s doing well

(via fatherlord-ozai)

“I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand. I’ll understand all the time. All day and all night. Especially all night. I’ll understand. You don’t have to worry about that.”
— Ernest Hemingway, Winner Take Nothing (via wordsnquotes)

(via swagggiemaggie)

hatin:

why am i only motivated to sort my life out at 3am

(via pizza)

somewhere
there is a women in China holding a black umbrella so she
won’t taste the salt of the rain when the sky begins to weep,

there is a 17 year old girl who smells like pomegranates and has summer air tight on her naked skin, wrapping around her scars
like veins in a bloody garden, who won’t make it past tomorrow,

there is a young man, who buys yellow flowers for the woman
in apartment 84B, who learned braille when he realized she
couldn’t read his poetry about her white neck and mint eyes

there are people watching films,
making love for the first time, opening mail with the
heading of ‘i miss you’, cooking noodles with
organic spices and red sauces, buying lemon detergent,
ignoring ‘do not smoke’ signs, painting murals
of his lips in abandoned warehouses, chewing
the words ‘i love you’ over and over again, swallowing
phone numbers and forgotten birthdays, eating
strawberry pies, drinking white wine off of each
others open mouths, ignoring the telephone,
reading this poem

somewhere
someone is thinking
i’m alone
somewhere
someone finally understands
they never really
were

— poems from my uncles graves (via floranymph)

(via swagggiemaggie)