Somewhere Only We Know . . .

this could be the end of everything, so why don't we go to somewhere only we know?

(Source: twirpy, via imgonnamakeachange)


Fall is upon us


Fall is upon us

(via dayseventytwo)

“Intimacy is not who you let touch your genitalia. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.”

—   (via highrapunzel)

(Source: queerkaitlin, via mapofyourhead)




imageIf you need Plan B, here’s a printable $10 off coupon. 

It doesn’t expire either! It’s a continual offer


Rest in Peace, Robin Williams.
July 21st, 1951 - August 11th, 2014

Thank you for bringing joy into my childhood and life with your voice and acting. Thank you for your contagious jokes, your wacky impersonations, and amazing acting. Thank you for making my childhood experience better, and thank you for bringing joy to those even though you battled with your own joy. If only you could have known how much you’ve impacted people. Your life work will live on, and you will never be forgotten. I know I won’t forget you. Thank you for helping me whenever I felt sad and having a film for every mood. Gone, but never forgotten.

(Source: disneyyandmore, via get-motivation)

“I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. It’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone.”

—   Robin Williams  (via edhardydouche)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via fuckyeahyoga)

Muscle is created by repeatedly lifting things that have been designed to weigh us down. So when your shoulders feel heavy, stand up straight and lift your chin – call it exercise. When the world crumbles around you, you have to look at the wreckage and then build a new one out of all the pieces that are still here. Remember, you are still here.

The human heart beats approximately four thousand times per hour.
Each pulse, each throb, each palpitation is a trophy engraved with the words ‘You are still alive.’

You are still alive.

Act like it.

—   Rudy Francisco, Complainers (via anditslove)

(via girlwiththelionessesmane)

I’m trying to memorize you.

I want to remember the way your eyes crinkle up at the corners when I make you laugh. The way you speak to me in Spanish when you want to say something that would embarrass you. The way you smelled like alcohol and Dolce and Gabbana cologne and smoke so sweet it’s intoxicating. The way we stay up all night talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

I want to remember the days that we woke up early just to watch soccer together. The wild nights that went spent at Circo and at the house parties, getting drunk off of vodka shots and each other. The day we ordered sushi and you told me about your dad and how much you loved him. The day when you told me that you really like me and are happy you met me. Last night when you made me look into the mirror with you so that we could really see each other.

I love that you tell me that I’m smart and beautiful. When you tell me that you like that I know what I want, it makes me feel like it’s true. I love that you like calling me Cara Lynn because it reminds you of your mom’s name, Carolina. I love the way this summer went. It was nothing like I expected, but I’m thrilled with how it ended up. I even love the way that things ended, with us spending the night together and you kissing me on the forehead when I left. It felt so perfect and so “us.”

I just hope you don’t immediately forget me. I want you to feel a little bit of the pain that I feel after leaving this country, knowing that I’m leaving everything behind and that things will continue to be without me. I want you to feel like I made some sort of impact on you. I want you to look back on this summer with the same attitude and fondness with which I will look back on this experience.

The reality is that I want you. But I’ll take what I had this summer because it was perfect.

“I want you to come home from the war, to take me in your battered and broken arms, to let me touch the “SGT” patch above your left arm and the battle scars on your face. I want you to take me home, strip our clothes off, fuck me in the dark with the dirt from your body covering me, your body tan from the Afghan sun. I want to lay naked in your too-small bed when we’re done, your childhood GI Joes frozen in time on your bureau, the mud from your boots in a trail across the floor. I want you to rest your hand below my bottom rib like you used to, I want to smell your warm and sour breath, I want to know that I am loved by the simple movement of your eyelashes against my cheek as you sleep. I want to grow old with you, to suffer through the burden of life with you by my side, to live to see your military tattoos get faded and splotchy on your pockmarked, wrinkled skin. I want all of this and more, forever.”

—   Rachel Sharer, What It’s Like to Love and Lose a Soldier