ach.

i like throwing my voice and breaking guitars
cause it doesn't remind me of anything.
i like playing in the sand what's mine is ours
if it doesn't remind me of anything.
sirmitchell:

I wasn’t, and will never be, this cool. 

sirmitchell:

I wasn’t, and will never be, this cool. 

(Source: sirmitchell)

PEOPLE WHO VIGILANTLY MAINTAIN THE SEPARATION BETWEEN EACH TYPE OF FOOD ON THEIR PLATE.

(via peoplewho)

this is me. my one true OCD issue.

bohemea:

My heart!
(via tolasudolsa)


for all my friends obsessed with cats…i must admit, this is adorable.

bohemea:

My heart!

(via tolasudolsa)

for all my friends obsessed with cats…i must admit, this is adorable.

(Source: kierkegaard)

love this shot.

love this shot.

(via bohemea)

 ’97 was a good year.
24freedinners:

freddieyabel: Spice Girls

 ’97 was a good year.

24freedinners:

freddieyabel: Spice Girls

(via suicideblonde)

Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that’s burned dry. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. It’s a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead- And wasn’t it true, had he read it somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time…? Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury (via bohemea)

(via bohemea)

(Source: maltyk, via suicideblonde)