1:56 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  2,571 notes

“

1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It will not be beautiful. It will not be brave. It will be selfish. It will be broken. Your mother will cry.

2. Don’t write for him. Write for you. Write for others like you. Write so the girl that thinks about stepping in front of public transportation doesn’t. Don’t be selfish.

3. When you will yourself to sleep and it doesn’t come- get up. It doesn’t matter that it’s 3 am. There will be other 3 am’s. Take a shower. Take two. Wash him out of your hair. Write a poem. Read the same book you’ve read 202 times again. The 203rd time might tell you something different. Don’t stay in bed- you will think about the bus again.

4. Don’t kiss him because he’s broken. Don’t kiss him because his laughter never reaches his eyes. Don’t try and fix him. Fix yourself first. Be selfish. He can’t save you.

5. Date yourself. Take yourself out to eat. Don’t share your popcorn at the movies with anyone. Stroll around an art museum alone. Fall in love with canvases. Fall in love with yourself.

6. Dress up and wear red lipstick and get drunk with your friends. They’re the ones that will pick you up. Don’t kiss him. Or him. Don’t fall asleep on strange couches with strange boys. When his hand slides up your dress walk away. Hit him. Don’t kiss him. He can’t save you.

7. Get another tattoo. Get five more. Get another hole in your ear. Don’t listen to your dad. You will still be able to get a job. Did you really want to be employed by someone like your father? Haven’t you had enough of judgmental old white men anyway? Get fuck you tattooed in tiny letters on your hip.

8. When you feel the yearning for a new city- start over. Take 200 bucks and a three suitcases. Work anywhere that will have you. Meet strange people and forget your name. Call yourself Ruby. No one will know the difference. Remember to call your mother. Don’t be selfish. Come home when you find yourself in the strangers and the small one bedroom apartment.

9. Don’t whisper evil things into your own ear. Other people are going to shout them at you. Be your own hero. Keep a sword on your key ring.

10. Don’t step in front of a city bus. It will not be beautiful. Live. Stay up all night with a boy that promises you everything and means it. Live. See shitty local bands with a friend. Wear a different band’s t-shirt. No one will care. Live. Have a baby girl with tiny fingers and tiny toes someday. Pour love into her until it’s overflowing. Live. Wake up. Staying in bed all day is not poetic.

Live. Live.

Live.

Do you hear that? It’s me. It’s your life. Wake up.

”

—
(via victorielle)

1:52 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  73,711 notes

buttwyatt:

the best part about dinner party is the george foreman grill in the bedroom

1:45 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  78 notes

cloudsomethings:

i made a summertime playlist that’s good for driving or chilling out at the pool/beach/backyard or whatever. it’s just basically some nice summer vibes (✿◠‿◠)

listen

1:39 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  393 notes

fishingboatproceeds:

kimyadawson:

Me, Karen, Mike, Dori, Kristine, Jody, Troy, Tina, and Richie. 1990

I swear, I pretty much exclusively wore Sting t-shirts for the majority of my teen years. I am glad a picture finally surfaced on the interwebs of me wearing one (and a red, yellow, and green wooden bead choker). 

I wonder who kissed who….because there must’ve been a reason for me to look so pissed. And that was almost always the reason. 

I was totally freaked out by the idea of physical contact (unless it was for trust falls or something) but I would still get so angry and jealous when my friends would have someone to get all smoochy with. 

I didn’t kiss anyone until the year after this pic was taken. When I was 18, in college. And even then it was just once and he was some big drug dealer in Harvard Square. He had no legs. He carried a meat cleaver under his wheelchair cushion. It was another year before the next time. I was 19. Other side of the country. Me and some dude were making out. He took off his shirt. He had the Rolling Stones lips and tongue tattooed on his chest. I freaked out, jumped out the window (first floor), and ran. 

I was a late bloomer, to say the least.

Sure did love Sting though. 

And I would totally rock Jody’s pants right now. 

My posse was crazy and amazing. 

I wish you could tell better in this pic that I had Milli Vanilli/Lisa Bonet hair past my butt. 

I loved Milli Vanilli and Lisa Bonet. 

And did I mention that I loved Sting?

I like LOVE LOVED Sting. 

Like wrote poems about him loved him. 

Teenagers are so weird. 

Weird good.

Do your thing.

Kimya Dawson is so great.

1:36 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  1,986 notes

“The tension between needing to be socially correct & personally authentic → an aura of reserve.”

— (via decrescendomolto)

1:17 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  5 notes

“It must be obvious… that there is a contradiction in wanting to be perfectly secure in a universe whose very nature is momentariness and fluidity.”

— Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity

1:17 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  127 notes

12:43 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  870 notes

perfectmadness:

stay (by hey, there you are)

12:38 pm  •  18 May 2013  •  421 notes

tyleroakley:

This is why you don’t Harlem Shake.

12:09 am  •  16 May 2013  •  108,392 notes

eatingallthefeelings:

effington:

If you don’t think you would like New Girl, I would like to disagree

New Girl is one of my favorite shows on TV right now and I use this scene to prove why whenever I come across someone not willing to give it a chance

12:08 am  •  16 May 2013  •  725 notes

can we talk about how someone disobeyed the sign to take this photo

10:35 pm  •  15 May 2013  •  208,311 notes

craig schlewitz

6:16 pm  •  15 May 2013  •  1,867 notes