And then my soul saw you and it kind of went
“Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Iain Thomas, The Point of Contact (via ferdily)

(Source: larmoyante, via goslinq)

4,168 notes
I’ve come home in love with loneliness. L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea  (via mirroir)

(Source: teenager90s, via goslinq)

2,463 notes

wigglytuffer:

first things first i’m

image

(Source: wigglytuffer, via officialwhitegirls)

92,809 notes

vanillish:

boy: *bends over*

me:

image

(via ohsobreezyjane)

106,922 notes

newgirldiaries:

since when did taste in music become a competition? if you like indie, awesome. if you like r&b, great! if you like country well actually

(via homoish)

75,864 notes

swarnpert:

noctstiel:

squarekun:

dead-lyrics:

pepperbear:

swarnpert:

7 billion people, 14 billion buttholes

a slight calculative error was made

anus georg

are you implying there’s a human named anus georg who posesses 7 billion buttholes

final boss

why does this happen

(via hobbitkaiju)

149,859 notes
I know that you miss me, and that you wish things would have gone differently, or that we would have had more time. But do you think you are the only one who has been taken for granted? Do you think that just because I am trying to move on means that I no longer love you? Because no amount of months filled with silence that are put in-between us will ever change the fact that I still love you and always will. We were both so selfish when we first met. We never seemed so be on the same page, let alone the same topic. I was always waiting for you to speak first while you were always waiting for me to touch you. I am sorry for this mess that we both made. This mess that is too heavy for either of our hands to clear. But everyday we are pushing through these heaps of cruel words and mislead assumptions, and everyday we are realizing that not even love could make enough noise to fill in the silence that we created for ourselves. I’m trying to think of new ways to apologize to you, to tell you that I do not think you are the only one to blame. But as I write out letters of regret I am always left with a blank ending, an empty pen, new reasons to why we should have waited. I spend most of my time looking for my courage in the things you left behind. I’m trying to find it because I want to use it for when you come back. I want to apply it so you can see that I am not all talk but over analyzed actions. I want you to think better of me like you did before you were in front of me. I want to be your muse again, your perfected poetry, your everything is still good thoughts. Maybe I will use this mess of bitter thoughts and passive aggressive confessions in your next letter. Maybe this will help you understand a little bit more to why it is that I’m still holding on. Maybe you’ll write back. Maybe you’ll come back. Maybe you’ll help me come to terms with our love suffering in the way that it did. And maybe, just maybe this will help you see that even though it feels like I’m moving on, I’m somehow still right beside you. "A letter full of contradicting sentiment," - Colleen Brown (via stained-coffeecups)

(Source: mostlyfiction, via creepy-coffeecups)

2,400 notes