heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street //
trying to take a photo at the bathroom. (yesterday’s shoot)

trying to take a photo at the bathroom. (yesterday’s shoot)

Anonymous said: height??

My height? 5’5? Not sure.

miladyswan:

I am honestly in shock. He was one of those actors who shaped my view on cinema and comedy. From Jack to Jumanji, Aladdin to Ferngully, Mrs. Doubtfire to Dead Poets Society. Robin Williams was always present during my childhood and it shocks me to no end how he is gone so quickly and so soon. He was truly one of the most talented and funny actors of his time. Rest in peace, sir. Thank you for giving everyone a friend like you.

maggie-stiefvater:


O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.


Robin Williams. :(

maggie-stiefvater:

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

Robin Williams. :(

busket:

Ghost Girl (by Kevin Francis Gray)

Via

man but this photoset ignores some of my favorite things about this piece

like this

and this

it gives it more of a story i think

Anonymous said: You sort of remind me of Alaska Young :)

Is it a good thing or a bad thing?

Conundrum

goodbyeuphoria:

Do you know what’s the quickest way to scare me off? Tell me you love me.

I can really be an asshole sometimes. My commitment issues are so bad but I still manage to take it to the next level. It’s really official, every time I have something good going for me I find some way to screw it up. Anytime a nice person gets close to me, I freak out and find any and every reason to run. I get too panicky and try to put them off liking me. Maybe I’m just an idiot and never give anyone a real chance. Either way it still leaves me alone.

I want to stop running away from everything but at the same time, I still don’t want to let people in. I’m such a walking contradiction, this isn’t even funny anymore. I’ll think more about this later. It’s starting to get depressing.

me 11 months ago waddup

I can’t stop thinking about my future. It’s driving me nuts.

Honestly

goodbyeuphoria:

I don’t know what to say about the beating.
I don’t know what to say about the fingers
and bruises
about the secrets he used like knives
against my ghost skin.
I know what it’s like to be forgotten
but I can’t forget the sound of fists
the taste of bleeding lips and the flick
of a lighter, fumbling for a cigarette.
You wanted to hear about this:
I don’t know what to say about the sirens
the fluorescent lighting of the hospital
and the sound of my parents fighting
to be done with me.
Every day is a waterfall of feelings.
I can’t escape the kneeling
at the toilet
to rid myself of heaviness.
I don’t know what to tell you about the empty healing
and the people who weren’t listening
when I screamed the truth in clouded classrooms.
I dressed my sadness like a tomb,
a shrine to the holy: “forgive me”
and the holy feeling of a touch against my body.
I let lust give way to rebellion, 
"forgive me, forgive me."
I don’t know how to describe the scars on my throat,
the lines drawn by distress and candy coated.
You are the only one who knows this.
I don’t know how to tell you I am not whole
but fragments of splintered wood and bits of trash.
I am a rash you can’t escape.
I am the crashing of two trains
in the night.
I don’t know how to tell you that I’ve never been alright
but today is better than the last
and I know I wanted to tell you that.

goodbyeuphoria:

Maybe the person I think about everyday won’t ever come back anymore and somehow I have to be fine with that

She likes to write. Encourage her.

Whatever you do, do not let her drink.
When she does, let her dance,
let her smoke another cigarette,
and let her yell at you.
Listen to her, because chances are
she is telling you that she loves you,
and this is a memory you do not want to forget.

Do not expect a lot of help from her friends.
They do not know about you,
and you should have been prepared for that.
You should have expected that.
She likes secrets, and this just shows
you were the most important one to keep.

Be prepared to be tackled when she is happy.

Wish her a happy birthday, and do not be late.
She will be elated. She will hold such joy
within her heart, that you will not even believe
that you were the one to cause such happiness.
Celebrate her enough for the both of you.

If she says she is going to kill you,
do not assume that it is a metaphor.

When she plays you a song, listen to it throughly.
This is her way of communicating everything
she cannot speak.

If she is feeling down, close the blinds
and crawl into bed. Wrap yourself around her
and watch twelve hours of whatever
ridiculous television show she has chosen,
because those are the times
she will appreciate the most.

Repeat to yourself that she will love you one day,
and some day you will start to believe it.

Finally, your time with her will be the happiest
you have been in your entire life. Enjoy it.


written by "10 rules to follow in your relationship with her." - Mariah Gordon-Dyke (via larmoyante)

I was deleting some files and I found this. Look it’s your draft!

otp!!!!!!!!!!!

babies

babies

#YesAllWomen

Because my cousin shared 3 rape experiences she had
And on all three occasions
She was wearing sweats and was brutally beaten

So there goes your excuse
That my tight dress was asking for it
It might have escaped your attention,
But I don’t wake up in the mornings,
And put on a skirt thinking,
Will this get me raped?
I don’t put on a tank top hoping,
Maybe this one will.

#YesAllWomen

Because in school, they teach us that our bodies are offensive.

They pull us from classrooms
And hallways
Demanding if we have longer shorts,
Or even a sweater,
Reminding us that the boys are distracted,
That the boys go wild for a peeking shoulder,
Or the sight of a sun burned thigh,
Because their education is more important than ours.

#YesAllWomen

Because white men in pressed suits,
Expensive watches hanging from their wrists,
Red faces glinting with arrogance,
Have more say over my body than I do.

Because those same men,
Quoting the Bible and fake statistics,
Have never shed blood,
As a twisted sacrifice for being a woman.

Because those same men,
Have never walked the streets,
Fearing for their lives,
Clinging to keys between their fingers like a lifeline
With pepper spray in their bags,
Ready for someone to feel entitled to their body.

#YesAllWomen

Because when a man says no to us,
It is a fault in OUR character.
It is because we are not
Thin, tan, or perky enough for HIM.

Because when WE say no to a man,
Its still a fault in OUR character,
We are the cold, ruthless bitch,
Saying no to the nice guy,
Who offered to buy us a drink,
And Who complimented our hair.

#YesAllWomen

Because a UCSB entitled nine-teen year old boy,
Can record a video
Of his plans to shoot down all the
“Blond bimbos who denied him his right,”
And then do so,
Only to have his actions excused by the media,
Claiming he was depressed,
Instead of admitting that male entitlement is dangerous.

#YesAllWomen

Because I am done being silenced
And I am done being polite.
I am done sitting by
And watching
As a country hypocritically cries
Equality and justice
But doesn’t have equal pay
Lets men make decisions for a woman’s body
And blames the victim for the actions of a rapist.

#YesAllWomen

Because our NO won’t be enough one day.

#YesAllWomen

Because I wasn’t asking for it.

#YesAllWomen

Because “Boys Will Be Boys,” is still an excuse

#YesAllWomen

Because “Not All Men Are Like That,” is still a defense.

#YesAllWomen

Because enough blood has been spilled.

#YesAllWomen

Because I am sixteen years old, and I am so afraid, when I shouldn’t have to be.


written by This poem was inspired by actual tweets from the #YesAllWomen trend on twitter.