iraffiruse:

How puppies help when you’re sick.

(via so-glad-were-neighbors)

supermoclel:

lovingmagcon2:

You better fucking reblog this guys

…

supermoclel:

lovingmagcon2:

You better fucking reblog this guys

(Source: us-the-teens, via so-glad-were-neighbors)

(Source: earthleaf, via leventricule)

When I was younger, I was told that there is too much inside of me. That I have feelings where others have bone. At the age of seven, a doctor tapped inside my head and asked, “Do you choke on memories from time to time? Do you cry for no good reason at all? Do words take a hammer to your head and crack your skull?” Yes, yes, yes, I nodded. “Then you’ve definitely got them,” he said, as he checked off a box on his list. “Too many feelings. What a shame. Try not to keep them inside or you’ll drown.”

For awhile, I tried to follow his advice by pouring my feelings into boys’ mouthes until I was numb to the memory of ever being over-filled. I let myself go weak in their arms and became a hickey-covered exhale. But no matter how many times I offered my mouth like a flower to be plucked, the feelings spurted from my chest and soaked whoever came close in words.

I tried to expel my feelings by punching them out of my throat and using ink to exorcise them from my chest, but still, they covered me in tear-stained scars and left me to whither alone in the back of bars. Still, they had me running towards strangers’ cars, asking them if they knew how I could rid myself of my weak heart.

Finally, having had enough, I took a train outside my hometown to shed everything I cared about. On a grey beach, I dumped all of the feelings which threatened to keep me from living normally. Then came the moment when I had to decide if I would rather be liked or be who I am-too sensitive, too quiet, too honest, too burdened. And still undecided, I have not opened my mouth since.

Staying Silent Until I’m Certain | Lora Mathis  (via lora-mathis)

(via leventricule)

girlinlondon:

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

girlinlondon:

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

(Source: aseaofquotes, via lifeinpoetry)

it stormed the other
night and it sounded like you.
the whole town flooded.

Amanda Helm, Haikus (8)

(Source: 13neighbors)

Everyone’s fucked up. You’ve just gotta decide what kinda fucked up you’re into.

yologna:

i let my laundry basket overflow because i like to push my limits in life

(via gens-inner-world)

I’m a creature of fine sensations.

Mary Shelley, from Frankenstein (via violentwavesofemotion)

(Source: grigiabot, via violentwavesofemotion)