wickndgames:

There were no complaints waking up to this


(Source: godsandmonstars)



coolscar:

*every highschool student when the teacher doesn’t show up after 2 minutes* “you know there’s a rule where if the teacher’s not here after 15 minutes we can just leave”







Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘97:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen
would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been
proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no
basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will
dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind.
You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth
until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look
back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp
now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you
really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying
is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things
that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you
at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead,
sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end,
it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with
your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at
22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most
interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them
when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children,
maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance
the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you
do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself
either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of
it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest
instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone
for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to
your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the
future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few
you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography
and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need
the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you
soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians
will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll
fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable,
politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust
fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when
either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it
will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way
of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting
over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Kurt Vonnegut  (via fawun)

(Source: chimagine)



And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.
Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via jenngofett)



dualchainz:

i honestly hope this vine trend lasts for the rest of my life



heckacute:

I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m busy cutting open Fruit Gushers and squeezing all of the goo into a glass so I can take a shot of it because that has always been a dream of mine and now that I’m an adult with a job, I finally have the means to make it a reality. Please leave your name and number after the beep. 



When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
Smile
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.

How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon  (via cesttoujourslamemehistoire)

(Source: latenightcornerstore)



Who made the potato salad?
any family member with common sense who doesn’t trust just anyone’s culinary abilities. heard frequently at family gatherings, particularly cookouts. (via blackproverbs)


neptunain:

honeymoon is an interesting term because an actual moon made of honey would imply space bees which is pretty horrifying



her lips are like the galaxy’s edge

and her kiss is the colour of a constellation falling into place







This is not a photograph of lovers, this is a 400 year old marble statue of Pluto and Proserpina