Christopher Sullivan via Tumblr

Fucking love Tyler the creator so much

Fucking love Tyler the creator so much

reblogged from Just Some Boy

princessgeekfayce:

if it snows today i will personally up myself for sacrifice to the snow gods because it IS ALMOST MARCH WINTER IS OVER GO HOME SNOW YOU ARE DRUNK

It’s gonna rain this weekend where I live in Southern California. Think of the tanning routines it will fuck up.

reblogged from Geekfayce

gracehelbig:

THESE ARE MY FAVORITE THINGS

wait where did you get the drop crotch pants those look so offing comfy

reblogged from

storyofagayboy:

"And can you feel the love tonight It is where we are It’s enough for this wide-eyed wanderer That we got this far And can you feel the love tonight How it’s laid to rest It’s enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best”

i literally can’t decide if i want a boyfriend more or the chipotle more

storyofagayboy:

"And can you feel the love tonight
It is where we are
It’s enough for this wide-eyed wanderer
That we got this far
And can you feel the love tonight
How it’s laid to rest
It’s enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best”

i literally can’t decide if i want a boyfriend more or the chipotle more

reblogged from Just Some Boy

I try to avoid wearing shoes, even the metaphorical kind.

empathephant:

There’s something about being touched by every blade of grass and affectionately scratched by every crack in the sidewalk that dares me to take another step. And sometimes I need that.

And sure, after a while you find your feet stained black with asphalt, and some people think that’s ugly. Once or twice, you’ll probably notice a friendly piece of glass in the side of your toe, but at least in my experience, there’s always been someone who will gladly knock a stranger’s door and ask for tweezers.

Maybe wading through waterfalls means I’ll spend a third of my life with the sniffles, but hey, even illness is a feeling. So I’ll keep making snowfolk with my bare hands and dancing in the rain until my hair is soaked through. I’ll keep forgetting my jacket even though you’ve reminded me six times there’s a chance of a storm.

Once a butterfly has landed on your chest you can never squash a spider. And even if it means that sometimes I’ll find pieces of my heart stuck to desks like chewed gum, I’d rather be the kind of person that leaves my wallet on a bench to save my seat than one that doesn’t sometimes fill up with tears just because the leaves are so goddamn golden.

I once heard that spicy foods release endorphins, which makes us keep eating despite the pain. Maybe that’s true, but maybe sometimes we just need our throats to burn and our nasal passages cleansed.

You can call me crazy, and I’ll probably laugh because you’re so fucking right. I used to think that if I had my choice of superpower I’d take away emotion. I’d steal the desperation from a suicide note or snatch a father’s anger right before his fist made contact with his baby’s flushed cheek. But then again, who am I to think I’d fair any better with such an indomitable force? I sometimes throw ice at the floor just to hear it shatter.

Either way, what is living without occasional surrender to that which lies beyond logic? Excuse my blasphemy, but your heaven sounds so boring. Eternal existence in one singular emotion? No, what interests me is the people, the gathering of old souls and tired hearts into one singular coagulation.

I’d like to believe in that. I’m aching to live with the faith that I can keep holding everyone I’ve ever loved long after my fingers have decomposed. But that’s not something I understand any more than the state half-past sleep or why strangers sometimes think in tandem.

So until then, I’ll keep eating my pizza crust-first so the flavor is what lingers in my mouth. I’ll keep hanging upside down, hoping my brain will forget how to correct the image and the city will become the stars. I’ll fall in love with every face in the subway station and somehow with no one at all. I’ll read Holocaust memoirs and force myself to watch the news. I’ll make myself a mirror so my friends can fall in love with their own sadness. And more than anything, I’ll hope in all this feeling it gets better.

reblogged from I'll carry, you crush.

Shup derp.