Diary of the wimpiest kid alive

Book Of Stories

Theres a time and a place to die. But this ain’t it.

(Source: thoseopeneyes, via syringe-love)

"HAKUNA MA’VODKA"
written by it means no memories, for the rest of the night (via regenapplaus)

(Source: xxxl0veleenxxx, via glass-foals)

373326:

avantblargh:

fashionsambapita:

Read each story here:http://vogue.cm/XSNWEq

i dont think you guys realize the importance of black hair being celebrated ON VOGUE..

too great

(via wombflowers)

showered-flowers:

have you ever just looked at someone and thought, my fucking god i adore you. i adore every goddamn ounce. i adore your bones and your soul. but I’m a loser, who just doesn’t wanna lose you. i can lose fucking everything, but not you. oh god. not you.

(via dink-182)

what-id-wear:

What I’d Wear : The Outfit Database

(source : Atlantic Pacific )

-moonshine-:

brinsonbanks:

Gerard Way, Hollywood | Brinson + Banks

Good god

(via africabytoto)

misslikey:

Stephanie Farrow, Mia’s little sister
nyctaeus:

18th century Indian dagger with sheath, made with steel, shark skin, jade, gold, ruby, emerald, sapphire and silver. In the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

daughterofhungryghosts:

Do people go on tumblr to share ideas and beliefs with people in harmony anymore?

I think not, because all I ever see on here is constant aggression, rude remarks, character attacking, and everyone taking everything extremely personally even if it is not directed towards them or meant to be…

b0undb0nes:

Goofing around.

Anonymous said: Why is life worth living? I ask myself this everyday, but can never even come up with one reason.

wethinkwedream:

Sunrises.
Waking up next to your best friend in her tiny bed.
Waking up alone in a tent.
The taste of green tea on a hot day.
Shaving your head and laughing.
The comfortable silence between yourself and another being. 
A field full of wildflowers hidden behind crappy buildings.
Notes from middle school.
Climbing sand dunes, even if you were falling on the way up.
Walking away from the people who hurt you. 
The way the earth looks after it rains.
Hot sand under your bare feet. 
When a cat sits on your lap instead of the laps of the other 8 people in the room.
Buying a dress in a vintage shop you saw 4 years ago but couldn’t get then.
Getting naked in places you aren’t allowed to be naked in.
The feeling you get when you beat an anxiety attack.
Making love.
Fucking.
Moving into your own apartment for the first time. 
Finishing a piece of art.
When someone says, “this reminded me of you.”
Meeting a person who feels the same way you do about the world, knowing you’re not as alone as you thought you were.
Eye contact with a beautiful stranger.
Changing your mind about something you thought you knew your whole life.
2 am walks in the city.
The rush you feel driving through an intense thunderstorm. 
Laughing so hard you pretty much pee your pants.
Family events you don’t want to go to that make you feel surprisingly thankful.
Letters in the mail. 
Getting so full you have to unbutton your pants. 
A good night’s sleep after 14 nights of depression keeping you up. 
Not failing a test.
Forgiving others. 
Forgiving yourself.
When someone says, “I’m proud of you.”
Telling someone how much you love them. 
Laying in bed with a friend drinking wine and reading poetry.
Getting lost in cornfields with your favorite music blasting through the speakers.
When you finally get the courage to say how you feel.
Drunken nights full of people you don’t know spilling their entire lives to you.
Buying a used book that has underlined sentences. 
The boxes you find full of pictures of people who passed away.
3 hour phone calls with someone you used to love.
The feeling of cool sheets against your bare feet.
Sunsets.

I hope you can start seeing the small things and understand that those are what make you feel. Those are the reasons you’re alive.