ammit420:

in hindsight i shouldnt have poured boxed wine and vodka into my can of 4loko last night but on the other hand this body is merely a flesh vessel for my stardust to experience other stardust

(via artvevo)

"We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art—we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones."

 Anaïs Nin, In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays  (via tiredestprincess)

(Source: citrusina, via tiredestprincess)

thomasshelbys:

They become part of who you are or they destroy you.

(via flourishtodecay)

vvaterblogged:

fohk:

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world”
"You’re just saying that"
"No! I’m madly in love with you and it’s not because of your brains or your personality"
Little Miss Sunshine (2006)Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris

Nj

vvaterblogged:

fohk:

You are the most beautiful girl in the world”

"You’re just saying that"

"No! I’m madly in love with you and it’s not because of your brains or your personality"

Little Miss Sunshine (2006)
Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris

Nj

(via artvevo)

shouldnt:

Holy shit my Aunt is WASTED

(via meladoodle)

poboh:

Berlin, Am Potsdamer Platz‎, Ilona Singer. (1895 - 1963)

poboh:

Berlin, Am Potsdamer Platz‎, Ilona Singer. (1895 - 1963)

(via detailsdetales)

thepeoplesrecord:

"I’d like to raise both of my middle fingers to him and anyone who thinks profanity is somehow more harmful to our children than images of violence and misogyny." - Happy birthday, M.I.A.!

thepeoplesrecord:

"I’d like to raise both of my middle fingers to him and anyone who thinks profanity is somehow more harmful to our children than images of violence and misogyny." - Happy birthday, M.I.A.!

(via jabatheslutt)

kelekelo:

every class is art class if you dont care enough

(via llawra)

enginkid88modern:

RENÉ MAGRITTE (1898-1967) - L’ÉTAT DE VEILLE

enginkid88modern:

RENÉ MAGRITTE (1898-1967) - L’ÉTAT DE VEILLE

(via aschoolgirlcrush)

(Source: jigglypuff, via wonderlandiful)

"Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes."

The Winter of the Air  (via fuckinq)

Well shit. It’s not just me.

(via booksfor-breakfast)

(Source: kalynroseanne, via aloholaura)

Aug. 31 10:28 am

justice4mikebrown:

(via kushgrl)

showslow:

Nicolas Feldmeyer, Woven Portico (2012) – photo by Nick Rochowski. Courtesy Saatchi Gallery (via)

Site-specific installation in which the artist has woven mesh between the columns of the portico of the central building at the university of college (UCL) in London.

(via tiredestprincess)

sadsongqueen:

Deconstructing Masculinity & Manhood with Michael Kimmel @ Dartmouth College

YES THIS IS SO IMPORTANT

(Source: exgynocraticgrrl, via llawra)

exulansis

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.