iamup2n0good:

sk8n8:

THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN TRYING TO SAY THIS ENTIRE TIME. IT IS BIGGER THAN THIS!!!

I’m ready! Y’all ready?

If nothing saves us
from death, may
love at least save
us from life.

Pablo Neruda (via intomymindseye)

micdotcom:

Potent minimalist art sends a strong message about police and vigilante brutality in America

Journalist and artist Shirin Barghi has created a gripping, thought-provoking series of graphics that not only examines racial prejudice in today’s America, but also captures the sense of humanity that often gets lost in news coverage. Titled “Last Words,” the graphics illustrate the last recorded words by Brown and other young black people — Trayvon Martin, Oscar Grant and others — who have been killed by police in recent years.

Let us not forget their voices

I’ve been thinking about something lately.

Imagine this:

You’re on an airplane, sleeping with your head against the window, your heart set on being home this time three hours from now. All of a sudden, something goes very wrong. The plane stops moving across the air and instead starts falling through it. The lights are flickering and the movie is skipping. The plane dips hundreds of feet in seconds, and the yellow cups fall from the ceiling. They’re a brighter shade of yellow than you remember, because unlike the demonstration, these cups have never been handled before. “Flight attendants take your seats now”, you hear, the pilot’s voice trembling over a cacophony of alert tones. You get that smell in the bridge of your nose like you’ve just been hit with a football. That’s what the fear smells like. The plane is going down.

Four more drastic drops in under a minute. People are crying. For all the folklore about how your life flashes before your eyes, you’re remarkably fixed on one vision – your parents. They’re sleeping at this very moment, in a bedroom so quiet they can hear the clock in the kitchen. And you can see them, clear as can be. You wish you could see a playground or a first kiss, but all you can see is your parents sleeping. Huh. Well, that’s that.

Several long minutes go by. Then, all at once, the lights come back on and the plane somehow rights itself. Some people cheer, but most people cry harder. The plane lands about an hour later, and as soon as you feel that touch down – hell, even when you were within 50 feet of the ground and could still technically survive a fall – you realize that however you brokered the deal between you and God worked; you’ve just been granted life in overtime.

Here’s the question: what do you change? Whom do you call that you haven’t spoken to in years? Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease? What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book? What can’t you be bothered with anymore? What’s the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question. Why not just change it all right now?

John Mayer (via contrafuckingband)

At some point in your life you will lose someone you love. Sometimes loving that someone means letting go, and love doesn’t have to die just because the relationship has died. Sometimes, letting go isn’t the end of the world, but the beginning of a new one. Cherish the memories, for they are all that’s left.

When you touch me,
a moon rises.
You have always been
my sunset.

Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)

The best advice I’ve ever received is, ‘No one else knows what they’re doing either.’

curlyheadedgoddess:

zhavani:

auttummn:

proteinpills:

weezystrides:

titytwochainz:

Brighten up your day with this cute kid trying to flirt.

awwwww, such a pumpkin. 💛

Omg the laugh

"yes or no? yes?" hysterical laughing" THIS IS TOO CUTE

I do I dooo so cuuuute

😍

How beautiful would it be to find someone who’s in love with your mind.

(via muse)

(Source: moeyhashy)

I want us to make each other better.

someone you should probably hold on to (via braided-funk)

Yet you still value the things you’ve lost the most. Because the things you’ve lost are still perfect in your head. They never rusted. They never broke. They are made of the memories you once had, which only grow rosier and brighter, day by day. They are made of the dreams of how wonderful things could have been and must never suffer the indignity of actually still existing. Of being real. Of having flaws. Of breaking and deteriorating. Only the things you no longer have will always be perfect.

Iain Thomas (via hellanne)

Sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.

Tim Seibles (via haemus)

(Source: hellanne)

candidinatlanta:

"As the protesters marched through the streets, it began to storm. Every time the thunder crashed, the protesters would cheer louder and louder. It seemed as if mother nature herself were cheering them on."