(Source: cyber-yeezuss, via catholicnun)

My only regret is that
I didn’t tell enough people
to fuck off.

My 92 year old grandma. (via coffeestainedheart)

(Source: lule-bell, via holdfast-er)



this is somehow really funny to me

about closing the goddamn door



this is somehow really funny to me

about closing the goddamn door

(Source: hanniween, via zackisontumblr)


me with every dog ever

(Source: mrbenwyatt, via holdfast-er)

Anonymous said: What do you do when the one you love the most leaves and you're alone for the first time in a long time?


Cry. Pick yourself apart. Blame yourself. Blame the timing. Blame the weather, the way the words came out, the things you didn’t say. Blame them. Stay inside for a few days. Bang your fists on your knees and cry when you find letters they wrote to you. Force yourself to leave the house. Force yourself to say “yes” when your friends ask you to come out for a day. Forget them for ten minutes until their name comes crashing back into you, full-speed, full of fire. Spend the rest of the night spitting up rust and wondering if they will affect you like this forever. Say “I’m sorry” to them so many times in your head that you get drunk off your own apologies. Feel your tongue grow into a dead, useless weight, heavy with things that are now pointless to say. Consider cutting it off. Consider running away. Consider changing your name, throwing yourself into a lake, and swimming until you drown or reach a new place, a new state, a country where no one has seen their face. Forget them in pieces. Forget them in revolutions. Forget them so fully that you begin to question whether or not they ever existed. Talk to your friends without having them lurk in the shadows of your head. Develop crushes and do not compare them to Them. Stop calling yourself “cursed.” Stop telling yourself you will not be cared for like that again. Stop saying that was your one chance at Love and you blew it. Get touched. Get fucked right. Put your hands in-between your thighs and do not blush. Look in the mirror and see no whisper of an apology on your lips. Forgive yourself. Forgive the amount of promises you thought about texting them, the worries you cried out to your friends, the sad regrets you poured into wine bottles and voicemails and fingernail-shaped scars. Throw “I am sorry” down like the dirty phrase it is. Leave it bleeding on the asphalt. Crush it beneath your teeth and feel the flavorless dust of it fall onto your lips. Declare yourself as more than an apology. A tribute to Forgiveness. A promise that never came out right. Be what you tried to pour into others, only for them to shrug off. Be it all. 


(via depresant, nevver)

(Source: cocofennell, via plutonymph)


Pokemon Boyshorts

Become Pikachu, Charmander, Squirtle, or Bulbasaur with these boyshorts. The backside of these undergarments feature each Pokemon’s tail, while the frontside features the front features of each Pokemon. Sold on Etsy.

whoever buys these for me gets to rip them off me

(via sparkleliketennant)