The Latest

Jul 30, 2014 / 616,583 notes
Jul 30, 2014 / 4,589 notes

(via perfect)

Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to inner peace.
Robert J. Sawyer, Calculating God  (via perfect)

(via perfect)

Jul 30, 2014 / 21,877 notes
Jul 30, 2014 / 4,448 notes

food52:

Perfect the art of the crunchy, ooey, gooey grilled cheese.

Read more: Gabrielle Hamilton’s Grilled Cheese Sandwiches on Food52

(via midnight-smack)

garface:

SKY TREES by fabrizio milazzo on Flickr.
Jul 30, 2014 / 3,638 notes
leis-ure:

more here :)
Jul 30, 2014 / 382,571 notes

leis-ure:

more here :)

(via sowrongitsmeg1)

g-rowing-upis-givingup:

ditchtheworldd:

better picture of my new flag

I WANT THIS
Jul 30, 2014 / 8,106 notes

g-rowing-upis-givingup:

ditchtheworldd:

better picture of my new flag

I WANT THIS

(via woke-up-0lder)

Jul 30, 2014 / 38,767 notes
You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want.
S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders  (via thenocturnals)

(via believeinjalex)

Jul 30, 2014 / 112,259 notes
Jul 30, 2014 / 2,136 notes

timehoodiesaurus:

imagine the smell of those rooms

(via believeinjalex)

I’m sorry I gave you everything I had without making sure you wanted it.
Heavy (#418: April 21, 2014)

(via believeinjalex)

Jul 30, 2014 / 176,366 notes
-citizen-:

Real Friends // I don’t love you anymore
Jul 30, 2014 / 6,245 notes

-citizen-:

Real Friends // I don’t love you anymore

(via believeinjalex)


I’ll read it over again, the lines of the note you left. I keep hoping that I’ll forget that the words changed while I slept, but I have my doubts. [x]
Jul 30, 2014 / 774 notes

I’ll read it over again, the lines of the note you left. I keep hoping that I’ll forget that the words changed while I slept, but I have my doubts. [x]

(via woke-up-0lder)

Jul 30, 2014 / 1 note

I once felt poetry was only for the weary

I felt I was never creative enough to come up with a strand of words that was ever so catchy and ever so sweet

I felt I could never stand in front of a crowd and express how I felt

But when I wrote this small string of words, I was not focusing on just how nicely they melted together or just how wrongly they developed

Instead I focused on letting my pen hit the page and realized a rhythm will follow

And flow

And bring the following words to the page

The thoughts come so fast in my head I simply cannot keep up

And with that I have to switch to my computer

But my fingers can only type so fast

Like my lungs can only breathe so many breaths

And I’m nervous I will selfishly waste them and my thoughts will not be wisely spent

So I fear that this string of words was not nearly as important as the next text I sent: the one that said I love you to that perfectly unselfish boy

And I fear that this string of words was not nearly as thoughtful as the letter that my aunt once wrote: where she said that she never once saw a person merely as strong as my grandfather who had fallen to cancer

And I fear that this string of words was not nearly as urgent as the quick, sharp scratches of the pen against a cheap piece of paper that the homeless man was drawing sketches of horses on to sell in hopes of making enough money to buy himself a hot meal instead of relying on strangers for help

And I fear that this string of words won’t be enough to show my gratitude to those all around me. To my family, to my friends and to my future. I hope I can make you proud.

Because I’m starting to worry that I will never work as hard as that homeless man once did, or I will never express my gratitude to family like my aunt once did and I will never know how true those feelings are reflected through that text that I sent.

And I hope I can make you all proud and I hope I can live up to society’s standards because what I once thought was right no longer applies and what I once believed in no longer stands planted firmly in place.

And I’ll end this here, simply as an, I don’t know factor. I don’t know where I’ll be in 10 years or if I’ll be with that first boy who I told that I’d loved or if I’ll ever cross paths with that man in South Kensington with the ragged gloves and endless courage or if I’ll ever be as remarkable as my aunt.

I find myself focusing in on people and on things that I may never reach. I find my mind wandering at night when it should be resting and should be rejuvenating. I find my feet fidgeting and my fists clenching, trying not to let my fears win. Trying not to let the dryness in my throat take away from how far my voice travels and how my voice can project.

I shouldn’t be worrying quite this late, I should be dreaming and following that winding path.

But dreams only last for a night. And a night is shorter than anything I want to experience.

It’s unfortunate in that light, the thought that it can come and go so quickly.

A yawn sets in and I’m letting the tired win.

But when I wake what will I remember and what will I see?
I can always dream of others around me- my aunt, my first love, my courageous friend. But when will I actually see them again and feel their touch and shadow their movements. When will it all end and when does it only just begin? I’m nineteen years old and it’s so frightening,

Ive lost track of my words and thoughts in my head

Simply because they scare me and I no longer want to dream of my future but simply cherish the moments I have now. We have so little time to enjoy life and enjoy those moments given to us to spend with others.

And with that I leave you to think about the depth of this world and the depth of gratitude I have for all of you whom I’ve just shared some of my most disruptive thoughts with, as choppy as they were. Organization is not necessarily a quality that I seem to possess. 

Jul 27, 2014 / 2 notes

ATTENTION: EAST COAST BANDS

Looking for east coast bands to work with- preferably unsigned. Message me links to your Facebook page and I’ll do the rest for you!